


Even If You Let Go (I'll be holding on)

by estel_willow, mandsangelfox



Series: The Only Place I Call Home [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, emotional whumping, post - st:itd, right in the feels?, strange alien races
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 55,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/pseuds/estel_willow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandsangelfox/pseuds/mandsangelfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you asked him when he'd started measuring time as 'Before Bones' 'With Bones' and 'After Bones', he'd lie and tell you he didn't know down to the exact minute that his life took that kind of turn. It was round about the time when he'd received a request from one Dr Leonard H McCoy to transfer to the USS-Endeavour.</p><p>Post ST:ITD</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stardate 2259.60

**Author's Note:**

> So this is quite a long fic, it's split into days, so some parts will be a lot longer than others, just a warning :) Feedback is love!
> 
> Whilst the whole fic is indicated as co-authored, the entirety of this work was written by me, and the entirety of MandsAngelfox's work ([Put It On My Tab (If It Hurts You Bad)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/914811)) was written by her. The dialogue is the co-written bit!

_Stardate 2259.60_  
 _0900_

"Transfer request fucking denied," James T. Kirk announced as he stormed into the sickbay, flashing PADD in his hand. A couple of nurses looked up in alarm at the sight of their Captain who looked like he might throttle someone out of pure rage, his jaws pressed together and lips a thin white line of anger. 

When he realised that the subject of his ire wasn't in the immediate vicinity, he had the decency to appear somewhat sheepish and turned his gaze to M'Benga who just tilted his head towards the door to McCoy's office and, a little deflated, Jim walked to the door, thumbed in the Captain's override and slipped inside. 

"A transfer, Bones?" he asked, because his initial burst of fury that had carried him from his quarters to sickbay had been spent and his anger had taken so much out of his still-healing body that he couldn't really bring himself to keep it up, besides, he wasn't really angry. He supposed if he thought about it, he was hurt and confused. Bones had been really distant since he woke up from his death induced coma save for checking his vitals and making sure that he took those godawful pills that made him want to crawl up inside himself and die for good because of the side effects. But if he didn't take them, he'd die, and he took them because Bones needed him to, because Bones had said that he had to so he did. He always listened to Bones in the end. It was the shittiest of shit situations, save for this one, of course. "If you were that unhappy here, why wouldn't you just talk to me? Why send me this-" he tossed the PADD onto McCoy's desk "-already signed by you and Captain Holloway with the transfer _agreed in principle_? I'm your CO, Bones, you're meant to talk to me first, not go behind my back if you wanna get off this fucking ship."

"That's not what-"

"I'm not finished. Look, I don't get why you wanna leave, you're the best doctor in the fleet and you're on the best ship with the best crew and-" Blue eyes blinked slowly as Jim tried to hide the fact that he was so hurt by this request, that he felt so betrayed by the fact that his best friend was making the decision to leave him in the black, go somewhere else probably less dangerous, but that didn't change that Bones wanted to leave the Enterprise. Bones wanted to leave _him_ and Jim didn't understand why. 

"You done now, kid?" he asked, looking world-weary and older than Jim had ever seen him look, like the weight of the world was pressing down on him and on top of that the universe was pushing down on his shoulders to top it all off. Normally he had a good idea of what was going on behind those hazel eyes, but this time Bones wasn't looking at him, he had his finger and thumb pressing against the bridge of his nose, somehow still managing to fold his arms protectively against his chest. He looked tense, like he was triyng to work out what to say, rolling sentences over and over in his mind, censoring himself in some way. Jim didn't say anything and Bones cracked one eye open to look at him before he sighed again. Jim felt guilty, bizarrely, for charging in and demanding answers and shouting at the staff just from that single look from Bones. 

Jim watched Bones wet his lower lip - the gesture as the one that Bones did when he was about to conduct a particularly difficult conversation - he saw the muscles in his jaw twitch and tick - knew that he was doing this because he was self-censoring, not wanting to say what was on the tip of his tongue. Saw whatever chance of pure honesty he had slipping away from him.

One hand - steady, calloused and so fucking talented - reached out and pulled the PADD closer, looking at the blinking transfer request before the good doctor pressed his teeth together and held the PADD out to his Captain again. 

"StarFleet regulations say I can ask to transfer whenever I want, Jim," he said slowly, still censoring himself obviously and it was infuriating to Jim because he wanted to know _why_ , why Bones wanted to transfer off the Enterprise, why Bones was leaving him when he'd promised never to do that. When he'd promised that he wouldn't be like everyone else and he wouldn't leave and he wouldn't quit on Jim and he wouldn't just- wouldn't just abandon Jim like everyone else in his life ever had. "I can't work here anymore."

"Why not?" Jim pressed, curling his fingers around the PADD, holding it close like if he didn't look at it he wouldn't be being royally screwed over right now, like if he didn't look at it, the transfer request wouldn't be blinking at him impatiently, waiting for his thumbprint and seal of approval to confirm that his best friend would be leaving them when they reached the Orion starbase where the USS-Endeavour was waiting for him with Captain Holloway right there, his eager claws ready to snatch Jim's CMO away from him. "You promised-" he started, catching himself before he launched into a passive-aggressive guilt-tripping diatribe the likes of which he hated. It was on the edge of his tongue, though, and he was doing his best not to lash out. To push Bones away before Bones pushed him away, make the first cut, make the first incision to rip this all apart.

Bones got to his feet, tension in his jaw and shoulders. "Dammit, Jim, you don't think I know that? You don't think I wouldn't be requesting a transfer if I didn't think there was any other damn way for me to stay on board this ship? I don't wanna leave, but I can't stay. Jim you gotta understand that and just approve my damn transfer, kid, 'cause believe me, it's better for everyone that way."

"Everyone? Or just you?" Jim asked before he took in a deep breath, holding up a hand to stop any potential answer from Bones. It was his turn this time for his jaw to tick as he pressed his teeth together so had that it was sending shooting pains up the side of his head as he controlled his urge to lash out. And just like that, he forced himself to be Captain James Tiberius Kirk, not Jim - or Jimmy - not Bones' best friend, but Captain James T Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, reviewing the proposal for his CMO to move to another ship as part of a permanent transfer.

He glanced down at the PADD and pressed his thumb against the mark, his autosignature scrawling across the screen and he sent the instruction off with a swipe of his thumb. 

"We'll be at the Orion starbase in about fourteen hours," he said, voice tight and controlled, distant, his Captain's voice. "You'd better be packed, Doctor."

He tossed the PADD onto McCoy's desk again and walked out of the office, saying "Congratulations M'Benga, you've just been promoted to CMO. Complete your handover and report to the Bridge" before the door to Leonard McCoy's office slid shut.

Left behind, on the table, the PADD was blinking green.

_Transfer request approved, James Tiberius Kirk. Message sent to StarFleet Command, USS-Endeavour and USS Enterprise Central Log. Stardate 2259.60._

*

_1400_

Jim sat in his ready room with his fingers curled into fists, pressed trembling fingers against his mouth as he drew in slow breaths, one after the other, trying to just pull himself together and deal with the fact that he was losing his best friend, that his best friend was going off the ship, somewhere where he couldn't protect him or keep him safe. Okay sure, they'd had their fair share of dangerous situations and scrapes but Jim had protected them, he'd saved them and he'd kept them alive which was more than he could say for some of the other ships and- _Goddamnit_. 

He got to his feet, chair violently reeling backwards, hitting the wall behind him and he lashed out at his desk, kicking it. It didn't even do him the courtesy of falling over, or even moving a little bit. Stupid furniture being attached to the floor.

He jabbed at one of the buttons on the desk-based console to bring up the recorder for his Captain’s Log.

"Captain's log, supplemental, stardate 2259.60. Today, Bones quit. Well, not quit, but he asked for a transfer. I've approved it. Don't want him here if he's miserable, God only knows how we’d cope with him being in a worse mood than he normally is. I've promoted M'Benga to CMO and whoever transfers in and replaces Bones can just deal with the demotion. M'Benga knows the crew, and I'm not having some green CMO screwing my crew up because he - or she, let’s be fair here - doesn't know them. It's a delicate balancing act, taking care of my crew. They're a special bunch. My crew are too important to trust their healthcare to someone I don't know yet. 

"We'll be at the Orion starbase in about five hours. I haven't slept since I approved Bones' transfer request nine hours ago - not that I would have needed to, but I'm off shift 'cause I've been doing the overnights to give Spock a break - and I haven't seen him either. I think if I did, I'd punch him in his stupid face. 

"I hope I'm doing the right thing.

"God, I wish Admiral Pike was still- I- Pause recording."

Jim had been pacing back and forth whilst speaking but when he thought about Pike, his chest hurt with a remembered ache that flared up so fiercely in line with the loss that he was about to experience that he just needed to take a moment to breathe through his emotions. He felt like the floor was being ripped from underneath him. Fuck.

He took a few deep breaths, pressing his hand against his chest, feeling the wild hammering of his irregular heartbeat under his palm. He’d never really had a chance to mourn for the people he’d lost in his life so he didn’t know what to do with his grief other than pack it in a metaphorical box and ignore it, push it away whenever it reared its ugly head.

"Resume recording." The computer chirruped its acquiescence. "I wish Admiral Pike was still here. I could use his guidance, I think.

"When we get to Orion, I think I'll give the crew a couple of days to just unwind. Dr Russell says tempers are fraying a little at the moment. Most of the crew are so young they haven't fully been exposed to long stints in space. We've got the youngest average crew member age ever to have been sent on a mission. With Chekov being seventeen when we started and me- Well. They're just not used to being up here for so long, hell, I haven't either but I was born up here, I think this is where I belong. I'd go crazy if I was anywhere else other than on my ship, sailing through the black.

"God, I hope I'm doing the right thing."

He swallowed and pushed his fingers through his hair, taking a sip of the water he had on his desk that had barely even been rippled by Jim's kick. Everything was mocking him. He tapped the button to end the recording and submit it to the official Captains' Log. His computer then beeped at him to tell him it was time to take the scheduled meds he'd been forced to take every eight hours since he woke up from the death-induced-coma he'd been in after climbing into the warp core.

He picked up the water and popped two of the yellow and green pills into his mouth, swallowing them with everything that remained in the glass, throat working overtime to just get the pills down him. 

It took about two minutes for the side effects to start and Jim just about managed to stagger through to the small, but oddly luxurious, bathroom connected to his ready room before his limbs gave out, trembling and shuddering and spasming. His body completely malfunctioned on him, the drugs doing their job in keeping him alive but really, did it have to be such a painful process? He hauled himself upright to lose the contents of his stomach into the toilet and knocked the bathroom door shut so it hissed into place and shut the world out so no one could see him like this.

The only person he'd ever allow to see him so weak was about to walk away from him, and he had to bring himself to stop caring about that.

*

_2350_

Jim had declined going to meet Captain Holloway - the asshole that was taking Bones away from him - when he'd come to the Enterprise personally to collect Dr McCoy and instead had stood in the hanger on one of the upper catwalks, watching as the crew said a fond - and tearful, in Uhura and Adelaide's (and Scotty's too but no one mentioned that) cases - farewell to the CMO that had saved their lives. In some cases, such as Lieutenant Castro who shook the man's hand firmly and clapped him on the back like old friends, he'd saved them from a lifetime in a wheelchair or worse, restoring their ability to walk when it had very nearly been taken from them. He watched Lieutenant Castro say something in a low voice to Bones, watched the older man nod his head in agreement. 

Jim had his arms folded, hands clasping his biceps so tightly he knew they'd be leaving bruises in the shape of his fingertips, giving himself a headache from the way he was grinding his teeth together. 

Maybe it was childish, to watch the departure of his best friend from relative obscurity where no one could see him. It was certainly against protocol but since when had Jim ever given a fuck about things like that? Rules were always for other people to follow. But he was watching Bones, he was watching him and he saw the way the man's eyes scanned the crowd for some sign of him and how there was a line of disappointment, of hurt perhaps, when he didn't see Jim anywhere amongst the people that had swarmed to say goodbye to him.

Good, Jim thought viciously, it did him good to feel hurt because that was exactly how Jim felt. He felt hurt and angry and betrayed and _abandoned_ and he really should have known better, he'd been telling himself that his friendship with Bones was too good to be true for such a long time. It had to go sour eventually, they always did, everything always went sour in the end, but Bones had promised, he'd promised so many times and he'd been so earnest and- And somewhere along the line Jim had started to believe him. Perhaps that was what hurt the most, that Jim had given up on his own cautions and the experiences of the past and he'd let himself believe that maybe this would be different, that Bones would be the one person that would never leave him. But no. Apparently not. Even those promises didn't mean anything. 

He wet his lower lip and set his jaw again, that moment of unguarded pain having been open to all to see if anyone had just thought to look up. And he felt himself crumbling all over again when he looked down to see those hazel eyes (he could see them from here, or maybe he just know them so well that could imagine what they looked like) searching the catwalks and falling on him.

He forced himself to unlock, feeling pinned like a rat in a trap by that look and he shrugged his shoulders, unfolding his arms as he dropping into that casual posture he held for all official conversations and times, that devil-may-care, I-don't-give-a-shit stance that he held when he was trying to be unaffected and keep the whole world at arm's length (which, clearly, he had to keep doing because he- because he couldn't trust _anyone_ not to leave him). He refused to be hurt by this because he wasn't- he didn't care. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe Bones was right. 

He lifted a hand and shot off a salute in Bones' direction, accompanying it with a smile that was as distanct and ridiculous and shallow as the ones he gave the girls he wasn't interested in, and the ones he gave the Admiralty when he thought they were talking shit but didn't want to verbally disagree with them. It was his distant smile, the smile he gave to the people who had never carried him home at 3am even when they had a test first thing the next morning, who had never patched him up after fights, the smile he presented to the people who hadn't learned about his history on Tarsus IV and the physical and mental scars it had left behind, who hadn't comforted him through nightmares and night terrors and each agonising January 4th when the whole damn world mourned the heroic sacrifice his father gave and he had to dodge the press that dogged his heels for some kind of interview or response about the hero father he never knew. It was the carefree grin he gave to the people who hadn't promised never to leave him and to sail the black together the way it was meant to be. 

With one last look at Bones, he turned his head and walked away and by the time anyone else saw that the doctor was looking up and lifted their own eyes to see what he was watching, it was nothing but an empty catwalk.


	2. Stardate 2259.70

_Stardate 2259.70 - Ten Days After Bones_

"Pick a direction, Mr Sulu," Jim said as he settled in his chair. The spot behind his left shoulder felt achingly empty, even though M'Benga was obediently standing there. The presence was wrong; he didn't feel a frown shooting at the side of his face. He kept waiting for sarcastic comments to be shot in his direction - or the direction of anyone who spoke - when he made jokes with the Bridge crew. But they didn't come. And the silence where everyone was expecting those words felt heavier with each passing day. "And then take us there at maximum warp."

"Aye aye, Captain," Sulu said.

Jim rolled the apple he had in his hand between his palms as Sulu punched in a destination and kicked the ship into warp (and God, Jim loved that feeling, not even Bones' absence could take away the joy he felt at the sensation of his ship leaping to warp), taking them further away from where they'd left Bones behind - or maybe it had been him that had left them behind since he'd made the decision to leave, after all. It had been nearly two weeks (ten days, his mind told him, not that he was counting) now since his departure from the Enterprise and his absence was keenly missed by all on board, but none more keenly than the Captain and Adelaide Russell, the ship’s councillor who, aside from the Captain, had been the closest to the doctor. But everyone missed him, Scotty often remarked how he missed the man's caustic remarks and the nurses lamented that it was so hard to keep things organised now because M'Benga worked in a completely different way to McCoy and their supply closet was in a complete state of disarray.

He blinked himself out of his reverie, getting to his feet, needing to get off the Bridge, away from the cloying memories and the sudden sweeping hurt that accompanied the spiralling thoughts of _Bones has left you_. 

"I'll be in my ready room," he announced, feeling a sudden surge of vertigo and glancing at the time. It was nicely timed, he supposed, the need to get away because he had to take his meds anyway. He knew Bones had left him with about three years' worth of the stupid drugs and M'Benga had probably been painstakingly taught to create more (and probably made to recite all of Jim's allergies alphabetically and then again in medicinal groups). The new CMO looked at him with concern.

"Are you feeling well, Captain?" he asked and Jim wished he didn't want those words to come from Bones in the form of _'Kid, you look like shit. C'mon.'_ But they didn't. Instead, they were crisp and professional and detached, offering to help the Captain but at the same time giving him space and the actual choice as to his own care in a way that Bones never would have done because that wasn't- Jim didn't do well with actually asking for help or admitting that he needed it. Bones always knew when he needed it and forced it on him, forced him onto a bed or into a chair, forced a hypo in his neck and lectured him about being an idiot all whilst healing him and taking care of him because he knew that was what Jim _needed_. M'Benga didn't know what Jim needed, he worked off what Jim wanted. And what Jim _wanted_ was to never be touched by another doctor other than his one. But his one was half a damn galaxy away. 

"I'm fine," he said curtly, pushing his hand over his eyes. "Mr Spock, you have the conn. I'll be back shortly." 

He'd had to tell his First Officer that the drugs he took to keep him alive had unpleasant and severe side effects that weakened him considerably for a little while after taking them. Spock had pressed for exact details and specifications as to what the side effects were but Jim had declined, patting his friend on the back and stating that they weren't pretty and that was all that Spock needed to know and that all he needed was to take a little time to recover before returning. But he could always feel Spock's eyes on him, sharp Vulcan eyes noticing the faint sheen and pale tone to his skin after he'd taken his pills.

He strode across the bridge and into his ready room and the door whooshed shut behind him.


	3. Stardate 2259.75

_Stardate 2259.75 - Fifteen Days After Bones_

Laying on the sofa that was in his ready room, Jim was waiting for the side effects to pass. He'd stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed onto the cushions, just breathing and waiting it out until he could get to his feet without collapsing and without his legs giving in on him. He wet his lower lip and closed his eyes, flinging his arm over the lids, the action swamping him with thankful, beautiful darkness.

"Captains log, supplemental. It's been two weeks since Doctor McCoy left the Enterprise and it's had a negative impact on the crew who miss him more than I think anyone wants to admit. We haven't found any signs of life out here so far and we're travelling to the edge of the Beta quadrant before moving across from here, our ultimate goal to head along the outskirts this quadrant before pushing further and maybe into truly uncharted territory for the first time. 

"The crew's R&R on the Orion was good for them, I think, even if a couple of them came back with venereal diseases the likes of which I've never seen. Bones woulda loved it and the opportunity to lecture the crew. He woulda come in here and regaled me in great detail about the idiot crew and what had happened, what they'd done and what they deserved to have happen to them as a result and how he'd managed to treat the disease and save Johnson's future children… or something like that. Heh.

"…

"I hope he's okay on the Endeavour. I hope he's settling in. I mean, he's not one for rules and regulations and stuff. I mean, he's not good at that kind of thing. It's why he fitted in here so well, amongst other reasons. We follow the rules as best we can until we can't. I hope they're treating him right. I bet Holloway’s a stuffy bas- man, all about following the rules.

"M'Benga's settling in well as CMO but he's not pushy enough. I need to speak to him about that. I caught one of the Ensigns from Engineering hiding a broken rib that the doctor shoulda picked up on and forced him into sickbay to heal it. I was about to pull M'Benga up on dereliction of duty when I actually read the 'Fleet regulations. Did you know a CMO can't force someone down to sickbay if they don't want to go and the injury isn't a threat to their life of the lives of someone else? And unless the condition's life threatening, a crew member can refuse treatment? 

"I didn't. Now I know what to do next time I get hurt. Heh. 

"I still hate doctors, you know. Without Bones here I really don't feel-

"Not that it matters how I feel. I mean, I'm the Captain and I have to look out for my crew. I'm calling a meeting of my command staff tomorrow to make sure that if any crewman is injured, they get ordered to sickbay rather than the trip being made a friendly suggestion. Without Bones here to enforce medical care…

"Hm.

"I'm starting to think signing that transfer form was a mistake."


	4. Stardate 2599.99

_Stardate 2599.99 - Thirty Nine Days After Bones_

"Keptin?"

_Everything's fuzzy, the world's spinning and it's too bright. God, he's gonna be sick. He remembers the press of a gun against the back of his head, a threat that if they didn't surrender immediately - **which one of you is in command? Me- that's me- I'm the Captain** \- that they'd kill his crew in front of him and save him for last. Video his torture and execution and send it to his next of kin. He remembers submitting because everyone would have died and his life's worth less than that of his crew…_

"Keptin! Keptin, wake up!"

_And Bones… if those bastards sent a data-packet to his next of kin, it'd be to Bones on the Endeavour and he'd be stuck watching Jim die with no way of saving him this time. No way of- no way of bringing him back like Lazarus, rising him to glory again as a hero. No. He'd just be dead and- and he can't do that to Bones. He didn't do it the first time, didn’t make him watch the first time he died and he- he just can't-_

"Keptin, please- you must open your eyes. Ze Commander needs you, we need you."

Pavel - _Chekov_ his Captain brain reminded him - sounded terrified and Jim was vaguely aware of hands gripping his shirt, trying to shake him to consciousness and keep him there. His back felt damp, like he'd been lying in the grass first thing in the morning. He used to do that with Sam in Iowa when they were younger, watching the sun rise when Uncle Frank was up early and thundering around the house looking for something - someone - _Jim_ \- to get angry at and take his temper out on. They hid in the tall grass of the field behind the old farmhouse and watched as the rising sun dyed the sky different colours and tried to guess which distant star their mom was circling this time, which planet she was on that was better and more beautiful than spending time with her two children.

His eyes blinked open and the light felt like it was lasering through his pupils to his retina, straight to his brain like a shot to the head. He let out a disgruntled sound, discomforted by the sudden beaming light but when his eyes opened a second time it was a lot darker. It looked like they were in some kind of cave.

He was okay with that, weirdly. He knew caves. Caves were associated with safety for him. He'd spent a lot of time in caves on Tarsus IV hiding out from patrols that were hunting down those on that fucking list that had escaped, looking to kill any extra strain on already tight resources, to wipe out all those Kodos had deemed unworthy, including James T Kirk. His name had meant nothing on Tarsus IV. His famous father- no one really knew who he was other than the kid that had been sent out there as punishment for being a little shit. They'd slowly starved, pressed against the back wall of caves and curled up together in spaces too small for grown ups to enter and squeeze into, but for malnourished, starving teens, it was easy. It was sanctuary.

_The mental probe's the worst and his mind's screaming for some kind of release as it replays over and over again the horrors of his past in his mind, making him relive every death he'd failed to prevent, every negative memory he’s ever had, every negative emotion and feeling that’s ever crossed into his brain even for a second. He's begging for it to stop in his mind, for someone to come and save him as it searches his mind for information he doesn't know, for facts his mind doesn't hold. He doesn't know what the Hyrellians are planning, he doesn't know about their plans and he certainly isn't a spy - **we came to observe the- ah! Fuck- the wea-ah-ther.** \- but they don't care because their enemy has brainwashing technology, subliminal suggestion and the ability to change their face. It doesn't matter that he and his crew aren't orange skinned, that they look nothing like the monstrosities these people were fighting against and it doesn't matter that they don't know anything about the war. _

_They're guilty because they're there. Wrong place, wrong time. They're guilty and prisoners of war as a result of it._

_He resists the pain and the questions because he's James Tiberius Kirk, **you fuckers** and his will and stubborn nature are infamous throughout the whole damn universe and when they try to pry information about 'this StarFleet' from his mind he shuts down and shuts them out and refuses them access and as a result they hurt him until he screams, broken and raw and echoing in the speakers of the vid this is all being recorded onto._

"Keptin!"

Blink.

Blink.

His eyes were having trouble focusing, his whole body felt weak and it was trembling, shaking and the next thing he knew, he was having eight of those damn pills shoved down his throat in three goes, a large hand clamping over his mouth and nose to force him to swallow those and when he dry-heaved and started to fit, he nearly blacked out again the effects were so intense. The world darkened at the edges, vision narrowing and blurring. He wondered how long he'd been without them, how far past dead, how long he'd managed to cheat death this time. It was his thing, he supposed, cheating death. He shouldn't have been born, shouldn't have gotten off the Kelvin alive. He certainly should have died against Nero, during his third year survival mission, during the kidnapping on Kyrella IV that got Tim killed- it should have been him that time, with the plasma bolt through the chest. He should have been dead when his ship crashed on Mars in the second year training mission. Hell, he should have stayed dead when he'd climbed into the warp core. He’d known he was signing his own death warrant, knew it beyond any shadow of a doubt but he would have done it again and again to rescue his crew. He knew he hadn't wanted Bones' last memory of him alive to be tainted with the sight of him dying but… At least he knew that here, if he died, Bones wouldn't be forced to see it every time he closed his eyes. 

"Welcome back, Captain," he heard Spoke intone as he rolled onto his side reflexively, dry-heaving more, nothing left in his stomach, not even bile. The pills were going to work, neutralising the aggressive parts of Khan's blood that couldn't have been countered, couldn't have been expected that savaged at Jim's own system on a regular basis and the lingering effects of the radiation that kept coming back to bite him on the ass. His whole body twitched and convulsed and shuddered at the surge of medication and sheer volume that had been forced down his throat, the Khan-specific immune-suppressants causing him to judder and shake and he was endlessly grateful when he heard Spock ask everyone to turn around to give him the illusion of privacy, but he found himself desperate for some kind of comfort because he was always scared when this happened.

He felt a warm hand on his head, long and thin fingers brushing through his hair and he knew without having to open his eyes that it was Nyota. "It's okay," she murmured reassuringly, rubbing his back until the spasms subsided and Jim felt something approaching human (though, 'human' was a very loose term). "We're out of the complex, somewhere safe, just waiting for the Enterprise to lock onto our signal and beam is up."

They'd escaped? Oh. Good. Okay. He forced himself to swallow against the acrid acid that climbed up the back of this throat along with the lump and the tears. He closed his eyes and nodded his head.

“Good," he breathed, the world beginning to darken around the edges again, consciousness slowly starting to escape him. "Very good."


	5. Stardate 2259.103

_Stardate 2259.103 - Forty Three Days After Bones_

"Captain's Log, supplemental. Still been no word from the Endeavour. Not that I'm expecting him to call or anything. I mean I think his leaving pretty much terminated our friendship and whatever else might have been there even if I was only deluding myself- Shit. Computer, delete last sentence."

"Deleted."

"I guess that means the Endeavour's been keeping him busy. I think they're a research ship or something, right? So that means they'll be giving that big ol' brain of his so many puzzles and challenges he'll be more excited than a kid at Christmas. If it's even possible for him to get excited. I don't think, in six years, I've ever seen anything more than a rueful smile pass that man's lips. Not even after I woke up from being dead.

"Oh- Yeah. Enough about Bones. He's not here.

"Our exploratory mission to Junden went horribly wrong. Captured, tortured, yada yada yada. Check Commander Spock's log for the details. I don't really remember them, it was about four or five days of pretty much solid torture for me so it all sort of blended together. I didn't tell them anything. And I had a fistful of those death-preventing pills shoved into my mouth soon as I woke up so I didn't die from Khan and radiation poisoning. Even frozen in cryo and locked in a tube in a high security facility that man's still trying to kill me.

"None of the other crew were seriously hurt. I identified myself as the commanding officer immediately and they had some kind of mind probe to confirm that I was in charge. They thought we were spies from their sister planet. Apparently they're locked in a bitter war that's lasted over four hundred years - give of take. All the people that started it are long dead, or so I could gather. No one remembers why they hate each other, just that they do.

"I'm glad humanity's past that. Mostly. Can you imagine how much destruction we could cause if we held grudges for that long? If people still held the Eugenics war against the families - the grandchildren - of the people that had started it? 

"We did manage to survey that whole area, though, there's a planetoid at the edge of the system that's pretty much nothing but dilithium. Scotty just about swooned when he saw the readings. Doesn't mean much to us, mind, since we're pretty far out without any mining equipment and you can't get close to the planetoid without alerting these trigger happy sons of bitches so we might just need to intervene and-

"No, I know we can't do that. Prime Directive and all. So I guess when they blow each other up and two unique and interesting - if unnecessary violent - races are made extinct because StarFleet never does anything except _watch_ , we can pick through their corpses to get at the resources."

He blew out a breath, his whole body still hurt from his time in the torture chamber, throbbing as if talking about it was bringing back all that raw pain. M'Benga had done his best to patch Jim up but had barely had time to attach regenerators (dermal or osteo) because as soon as he was conscious and able, Jim used the new rules he'd found and discharged himself, limping back to his quarters to nurse his own wounds with some alcohol and a round of moping because he didn't want some other doctor's hands on him. He wanted _Bones'_. He always had done. When he'd walked out, M'Benga hadn't dared to demand that he stop and _'lie down, dammit Jim I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker and if you don't rest now you'll collapse before you hit the bridge and I will not pick your ass up.'_

God, he missed Bones like a limb, even just hanging out off duty in their respective quarters, drinking whiskey or bourbon and laughing about pretty much nothing. He even missed - perhaps more than the conscious company - being able to pad to Bones' quarters on those nights when Tarsus haunted him with the deaths he couldn't prevent and he couldn't sleep without the presence of another warm body near him to remind him that he wasn't alone on that planet anymore, that he just wasn't alone _again_. But he was, now, because Bones had left him. He just missed the doctor - _his_ doctor - and the man's stupid, grumpy face.

The system bleeped patiently, reminding him that there was now quite a pregnant silence on his log.

"There's nothing more we can do here for these people. Spock's sent the atmospheric data, the socio-economic and political knowledge we obtained and the information on the dilithium planetoid back to StarFleet command and they'll do whatever it is they want to do with the information. They'll probably trade for the dilithium, or just go in and get it. We can be kind of ruthless like that.

"I've briefed Adelaide on the situation - sorry, um, Doctor Russell. As the ship’s counsellor, she's having to deal with all of the fallout from pretty much everything and I know that she's doing her best but I need her to see all of the away team who were involved in the kidnapping. Even though they weren't taken, something like this- it leaves marks. Believe me, I know.

"Her office hours are busy at the moment, and she looks tired. I hope she's resting okay. I might assign her some down time soon, and Lieutenant Castro. That reminds me, I need to look at the rules of fraternisation. We've been out here for a while now, and to be honest, we're not- it's not fair of StarFleet to turn a blind eye on one relationship but then expect me to deny any other crew the same privilege, especially when I know how much they- what they feel for each other. There has to be a change to the rules when you're this far out for this long. Attachments form, it's natural and- and it's not fair to make people hide how they feel.

Uh- So. I've ordered all the people who were on the away team to see Dr Russell for at least one session. If she thinks they need more than that, she's within her rights to demand it. Those that have been told to see her are Chekov, Nyo- Uhura, Kowalski and yeah, even me. She can help them through whatever their reaction to this is. 

"I'm not too worried about Kowalski, he's a hardy bastard. Survived worse with me and the doc - Dr McCoy, that is, who is no longer a crewman on this ship - on Kyrella IV. But I think the others just need to talk about what happened, sort through their thoughts, you know? Make sure they're on the level.

"I don't think Spock needs counselling, but I've told him he needs to see Adelaide anyway."

Jim laughed to himself at the thought of that session and then grimaced when the laughs gave way to hacking coughs. "Pause recording."

"Paused."

His whole body was wracked with the coughs that started in his chest and ended in his toes, holy _fuck_. His ribs were broken, his nervous system had been abused along with the physical and mental torture he'd undergone, they'd spent time shocking him, enjoying the effect it had on his heart rate, never enough to kill him but certainly enough to cause him plenty of pain. He knew the burn marks on the back of his hands would scar, it was okay because he had more than enough already. What were another few dozen more? It wasn't like he had to look pretty for anyone. The cut to his jaw would scar too, a thin, long line underneath the left curve of his jaw from his ear to chin. He just- he hated doctors so much. Hated them. 

He kept thinking about how this wouldn't have happened if Bones had still been here. They would have been beamed up the moment things started going wrong because Bones' gut was almost as good as Jim's. They would have been beamed up straight away instead of after things had already gone to shit and Spock had been forced to lead a rescue attempt and flee into a damn cave. 

"Resume recording," he ordered a little breathlessly. 

_Bleep_ the computer chirruped in response. 

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall in that session. It'll be really awkward. Adelaide'll come out of it and just quit. Only I hope she won't actually. Her services here are exemplary and she's a real asset to the crew. I'd suggest a councillor on all long-term, deep space missions. In fact, note that down, a qualified councillor is a necessity on long-term, deep space missions.

"Man. It's only been what, forty days since Bones left," that was a lie, Jim knew it had been forty three days and about seven hours because he wasn't counting. Nope, he really wasn't. "Forty three days after Bones," he mused, "Only forty three days. Why does that feel like a lifetime?"

Jim sighed and smothered another round of coughs as he left his quarters to go and start his shift. He hated the alpha shift because it was so early. Too early to be awake even in space where all the days were the same because there was no sunrise or sunset to attribute 'early' to. 

God, he hoped Bones was enjoying being on the Endeavour and that the transfer was worth it. He hoped more, though, that he would stop missing the other man so much soon because really, it was killing him that his best friend had abandoned him. He didn't know when he'd started to believe that Bones would keep his word but he wanted to go back in time and punch his twenty two year old self in the face and tell him to stay the fuck away from the ridiculously attractive and enticingly broken recovering alcoholic on the shuttle to save his future self the pain of falling in love and getting abandoned. Again. Like always. 

It was the first thing he'd do when his genius crew invented time travel.


	6. Stardate 2259.150

_Stardate 2259.150 - Ninety Days after Bones_

"How is he?" Jim asked as he sat down opposite Adelaide in the mess hall, unappetising meal on is tray sloshing about in front of him. It had been ninety days since Bones had left the ship and they were travelling - slowly - through a place that Jim had privately renamed the-most-boring-sector-in-the-universe. Jim was going spare because there was literally nothing out here save stuff that made the science division cream themselves so they had to spend longer letting them "research" and had taken to browsing through the outgoing transmissions, he wasn't watching them, he was just curious to see where people were comming to - see _who_ they were comming - so far out into the black. One name caught his attention making regular communication with- with the Endeavour and he hated himself for it but he looked further and found regular communications - both incoming and outgoing - between his ship and that one and knew exactly who it was that was talking to his former CMO. He had started to listen to the first one he could find.

Adelaide glanced up when the Captain slid into the seat opposite her. The young Betazoid looked confused, then wary and then a little angry as she realised what had happened and what he was alluding to. Jim knew she didn't need to be a telepath to work out what he'd done; she was an incredibly smart young lady (who was two years older than him, but that wasn't the point). 

"I'm sure that's a breach of protocol, Captain," she said cooly, stabbing her fork into her food. "This isn't the Academy anymore." Even though they'd been friends for years, she didn't appreciate him abusing his position to tap into private communications that had nothing to do with him and that much was pretty clear from her dark expression.

"Oh hush, I didn't actually listen to much." He was trying to be flippant to get rid of the surge of guilt Adelaide's look made him feel. He'd just wanted to hear Bones' voice, in all honesty, and as soon as he'd realised the conversation as taking a personal turn, he'd switched it off, being left with a sense of longing that had just intensified after hearing Bones speak. He'd thought if he just listened to the man's voice it would have soothed the ache, made Jim miss him less, but it hadn't worked. In fact, it had had the opposite effect and all it had done was make it so much worse.

Adelaide's eyebrow lifted. "If you miss him that much, you should call him."

"I don't miss him," Jim snapped defensively and Adelaide just twirled some pasta around her fork, popping it into her mouth with a shrug of her shoulders and an 'if you say so' as she chewed thoughtfully, black eyes roaming the room and not looking at the pulsating mound of emotion and messy thoughts in front of her. He hoped that he was giving her a headache.

Like it was _that_ easy to just call him. 

Bones hadn't abandoned her, not in the same way he'd abandoned Jim. He hadn't walked out on her after promising he wouldn't be like everyone else. And Adelaide was just waiting because he would crack eventually. He always did with her and he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he knew hiding what he was feeling wouldn't work. she was a telepath after all and she knew that he hated it. And he did. He really did. He always worried that his secrets weren't safe around her, never mind that she'd never pry into anyone's mind - let alone his - without their express permission. 

"I just want to know how he is," he said finally after a few minutes of awkward silence, voice a little petulant and he stabbed at his food with the regulation standard spork. The silent had only persisted because he hadn't wanted her to push this, he'd just wanted an answer so he could go about his day vindicated in his lingering anger - not anger, his mind told him, hurt - at Bones. But no, she'd made him ask the question again knowing that it would bother him and because it would force him to think about why he wanted to know. Force him to confront his own feelings which he really didn't want to do. God, he hated her sometimes but he wouldn't have left on this mission without her. She'd been the only other person able to temper Bones and-

There it was again, that pain in his chest. He kept feeling like he was having a heart attack whenever he thought about the great gaping hole - _wound_ , _void_ \- in his life that was caused by Bones' absence. 

"He's fine," Adelaide said, dark eyes settled on Jim's face, obviously psychoanalysing him. He felt his skin prickle. "They're keeping him busy over there, he's doing a lot of research projects which keeps his mind occupied."

It was on the tip of his tongue to complain or to make a comment about how of course Bones was fine. Why wouldn't he be fucking fine, waltzing off and doing his dream fucking research job and not feeling the same deep seated ache that Jim was. Well fuck him and his making Jim care. Of course Bones was loving being aboard that boring ship with those stupid people.

"Oh,” was all he said.

"You were expecting something else?" she asked, tilting her head as a few strands of fire-red hair fell in her eyes. She wet her lower lip as he shook his head. "He's having a good time over there."

He wondered if she could see the disappointment in his eyes. She probably could. She was a shrink, after all. 

"Good. Maybe that ship's a better fit for him anyway." Jim didn't believe that, even as the words slipped out of his mouth. He didn't want to believe that because it- well. Whatever.

"Perhaps," Adelaide said, infuriatingly calm as she twirled more pasta around her fork and looked at Jim as he stood. She nodded her head. "Captain."

If she knew anything more, she certainly didn't let it show and Jim felt so angry about it. He grabbed his tray and dumped the food content in the recycler (ignoring the rush of panic that always overcame him whenever he wasted food, it wouldn't kill him just this once), dumping the tray and cutlery to the side and walked off. He wasn't feeling hungry anymore.


	7. Stardate 2259.160

_Stardate 2259.160 - One Hundred Days After Bones_

Jim felt like this was some kind of bizarre event, like it should have some kind of ship-wide cultural significance. This was officially the longest time that he and Bones had spent apart since they'd first met and he found that it was more and more difficult for him to sleep nowadays because his nightmares included crashing ships, warp cores and Tarsus all rolled into one, remembering the crash that had nearly claimed his life in their second year when someone had sabotaged the ship and he'd crashed on the surface of Mars. Bones' face had been the first one he'd seen when he'd woken up after surviving yet another thing that should have killed him and wasn't that just fucking fitting because when he'd been crashing, when he knew he'd die, he'd closed his eyes and the faces of the people he had left in his life that he cared about had flashed before him. It had been Pike and Bones, Pike and Bones, PikeandBonesandMom, BonesBonesBones _Bones_ before he'd hit the planet's surface.

Perhaps he should have known then, but for all of his genius, sometimes Jim was an idiot and he was perfectly willing to admit that. At least, in the privacy of his own quarters where no one else could hear him.

He wasn’t in his quarters, though. He was sat in the quarters that had previously belonged to the former CMO, a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon in his hand as he lounged in the spinning chair behind the desk. The whole room was empty, stripped bare of everything that had made it personal to Bones. He tapped his fingers on the desk. He'd watched Bones study at a desk like this at the Academy, he'd watched him work furiously on research papers way into the dead of night until he was so exhausted all he could do was let Jim drag him into bed and curl up behind him to make sure that the man slept. In these quarters, on board this ship, they'd talked about alien races and pathogens, they'd talked about old times and joked about the future that was laid out ahead of them on a red carpet. 

In these quarters, these ones right here, he'd told Bones that they'd sail the stars together, side by side, until they were both too old to do anything else and then they'd settle somewhere in Georgia, maybe in the McCoy family house, and have a whole load of horses and live out the rest of their days like that. 

It was the closest thing to 'I love you' that Jim had ever said to anyone and even that hadn't been enough. Maybe it was foolish of him to have thought that it would have been. That _he_ would have been enough. It didn't seem to matter how hard he tried, he was never enough, just like Frank had always told him. And wasn't that just a kick in the teeth. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair and got to his feet, looking at the bourbon again before he found he couldn't really bring himself to drink it. It would forever be tainted with the memory of Bones and he'd never be able to drink it without feeling that melancholy and a loneliness that he didn't know how to handle anymore, because Bones had taken that, too. He hurled it at the wall, listening to the glass shatter and he watched as the bourbon soaked into the carpet.

"One hundred days. Fuck you. _Fuck. You._.”


	8. Stardate 2259.190

_Stardate 2259.190 - One Hundred and Thirty Days After Bones_

The days were dragging as they investigated dead sector after dead sector. They'd stopped where they were because there looked to be the remnants of some kind of old war, scarred bits of planet that had been blown to bits were exciting the historians and scientists on board and really, they didn't have anything better to be doing so Jim was quite willing to indulge them. 

He'd spent the one hundred day anniversary of Bones' leaving by getting horrendously drunk in his quarters and moping for three days before he dragged his ass back to his chair and asked if there was anything nearby he could blow up. Turned out that there wasn't.

He hadn't been punched or injured in a week and there hadn't been an intergalactic incident yet. He was starting to think that the only reason bad things happened to him was because Bones had been there to patch him up.

Oh no, fuck you Universe, he thought if that was the case because he'd rather have Bones there and all the shit going down than this boring hell without the doctor. 

"Captain," he heard Spock's voice float over the comm. "I believe we have found an artefact of significant historical importance. Requesting permission to bring it on board so that we can further examine it."

Jim pursed his lips and tilted his head, he had a bad feeling about this. "What kind of artefact?" 

"I am not sure," Spock admitted, "But I feel that further examination might provide some insight as to what happened in this area of the galaxy and as to why the planet that should be here is, rather conspicuously, not.”

"It's not like it’s _missing_ , Spock, it's in bits around us." 

"The planet has been destroyed it would seem on first glance, yes, but it should not have been. And as we cannot be sure that this is, indeed, the remnants of the planet that it once was, I think it would still be wise to try and determine what happened. Regardless, this artefact may be of historical significance and as it appears to be somewhat advanced, may offer-"

"Spock," Jim cut him off, "I get what you're saying. Bring it on board as long as it's safe."

"I will arrange for its immediate transportation to Laboratory B." Spock said calmly, ending the transmission with "Spock out." And Jim rolled his eyes, figuring he could leave them to it and that he didn't need to worry despite the nagging feeling in his gut that something was wrong with finding something in an area of space that was completely derelict and, by all rights, shouldn't have anything there anymore.


	9. Stardate 2259.210

_Stardate 2259.210 - One Hundred and Fifty Days After Bones_

Jim should have listened to his instincts. Why did these things always happen to him?

The artefact had been rigged with some kind of virus that ravaged the immune system of the poor race that found it, an adaptable and insidious AI machine that had cut Crewman Holmes' finger at the outset and analysed his DNA and white blood cells and retro-engineered itself to produce something that just killed off human anti-bodies. The whole ship was on lockdown and Jim had been shoved into his quarters to captain from the safety of his room. He wasn't allowed to move, M'Benga had told Spock about his compromised immunity anyway and Spock had made the decision to keep the Captain quarantined for his own safety, even as the rest of the human crew started succumbing to the virus with alarming speed. 

Those that weren't infected started having to wear hazard suits, masks to protect them and those that were infected were quarantined in sickbay but soon the numbers became too great and people started dying.

It took M'Benga nineteen days to find the cure to the virus - it had only taken Jim two hours to yell _Get that fucking thing off my ship and destroy it_ \- and he knew full well that Bones would have found the cure in a least half the time (if that) and no one would have died. 

Rationally, he knew it wasn't fair to compare the two, nor was it fair for him to blame M'Benga for the fact that some of his crew had died or to blame Spock for bringing that thing onboard in the first place because how was Spock to have known? But he just wanted to blame something because he was so- he was so angry and he was trapped in his quarters until the virus had been eradicated because his immune system - weak - was already destroyed by the malpractice of his youth and his time on a planet with inadequate disease care and a pox that shouldn't have existed because it had been long since cured on Earth. 

He paced back and forth in his quarters before he sat down at the desk. 

"Computer, begin recording." 

_Chirrup._

"Hey Bones. It's been one hundred and fifty days since you quit out on us and I figured it's probably about time I checked in." He looked at the screen, recording his tired and worried expression, the hollow of his cheeks and eyes because God, he'd lost weight worrying about his crew and being trapped in his room for twenty days. "You've trained the crew well. We've had an outbreak of a virus on the ship. Attacks the immune system. They've contained it now, M'Benga's finally got a cure but not- we still lost people, Bones. We lost crew that we shouldn't have done because we're StarFleet, God. But- it's horrible, it's like they get- everything just shuts down. 

"Aiden Kowalski's there. Sarah's by his side and she hasn't stopped crying for three days. M'Benga thinks he got it in time, vaccinated the rest of the crew that hadn't been infected but we're not even running on a skeleton crew at the moment. Over nine hundred of the people got sick here. The only ones that avoided getting ill were the non-humans and, well me. Which isn't right, Bones, and I'd kill you for telling them about my- but then that wouldn't do anyone any good. I couldn't have killed you because soon as the virus hit me I'd probably have just dropped dead to the floor.

"That's not on the agenda. It got Joaquin too - Lieutenant Castro. They had to put him in a separate room because Adelaide's going spare. They've had to sedate her every day just so she stops and sleeps. I'm thinking I need a councillor for the councillor, now. Heh. How messed up would that be? How far would you have to go to make sure everyone was covered? How many people to council the councillors?

"I'm tired, Bones. I feel tired all the time and I started counting time in the number of days since you left me. Because that's what you did, you know. You didn't transfer off the Enterprise, you left me. You walked out and you'd promised that you'd never do that. 

"I don't get it. I don't get what I did wrong, Bones. I mean- I know I'm trying and I know I'm severely fucked up but- but I _tried_ and that's- I know now it wasn't enough but I don't know what else I coulda done because I tried. I mean- 

"I wish you'd spoken to me before you'd made this decision. Before you'd decided to leave because- I dunno, I just- I miss you, you fucker. I don't know when I stopped being able to sleep without you. It's hard now. I keep waking up and thinking it's okay, I'll be able to go back to sleep 'cause you're just down the corridor and I'll go bug you and you'll grumble at me but roll over so I can take up my side of the bed.

"You fucking promised me you wouldn't be like everyone else. You _promised_ that you wouldn't leave and that you wouldn't just- But you did. You left me and you left me out here after I- After you made me care about you you bastard and now I'm stuck out here alone. And that's your fault. 

"I hope you're having fun on your new ship, with your new crew. And I hope that you're having the best time with all those strangers who don't know you the same way I do. I hope it was fucking worth it."

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, across his face and then looked at the holovid recording, straight into the camera. 

"I hope you're fucking happy. Because I'm sure as shit not." 

He pressed his lips together and then closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of of his nose and just breathing in slowly. 

"Computer, delete recording." 

There was no point in sending it. 

Bones clearly hadn't wanted anything to do with him. If had, maybe he wouldn't have left. He hadn't even heard from Eleanor McCoy so maybe he'd lost both of the McCoys, even though Miss Eleanor had never been his grandma, she'd taken him under her wing as soon as she'd met him when he was keeping his midnight vigil beside a comatose Leonard McCoy's bed during their time at the Academy. 

He felt like he'd lost everything when Bones had requested that transfer and keeping up a brave face for the crew - when everyone knew that he was angry that Bones had left though no one knew the real reason as to why - was getting harder and harder.

"Captain to Sickbay."

"…"

"Captain to Sickbay. Fucks sake, somebody answer me."

"Sorry Captain. It's Nurse Campbell here. We're still swamped but people seem to be responding to the vaccine well enough."

"Can I get a sit rep? Or leave my quarters yet?"

"No and no. I'll get the doctor to send the details to your PADD so you can survey the- the losses and get a headstart on recording your official notices for StarFleet to send to the families of the deceased." 

Jim pressed his teeth together. "Okay." He hated doing those letters. Hated dictating something that felt so impersonal. "That's fine. I'll- yeah. Get it sent to me and I'll start them. Kirk out."

Well. He needed a drink for that.


	10. Stardate 2259.243

_Stardate 2259.243 - One Hundred and Eighty Three Days After Bones_

"Captain's log, supplemental. We answered the distress beacon from the Hurrera yesterday. They'd been attacked by a rogue Klingon warbird but they seemed to not be around when we arrived. We took the survivors on board and they're recovering in sickbay. Now pretty much everyone's back on duty following the disease breakout, and I've had to write seventy five condolence letters to the families of the crew that we lost. They received space burials when we went past a particularly beautiful nebula. 

"I wanted to keep them, to give their bodies back to their families so they had something to bury but we just don't have the space, I was told, or the facilities to keep the bodies in a decent state. And I was told that turning around and going home was an irrational decision, according to Spock. That it wouldn't serve us well. 

"I think he feels guilty, you know. About what happened with the artefact as he was the one that wanted to bring it onboard. I know it's wrong, but I feel like he should be feeling guilt. Not that he was to have known so it wasn't really- couldn't have been his fault but I guess that's human nature.

"I've got a datapacket, a video from the USS-Endeavour to watch. It's from Bones. I- I've had it for some time but things have just been so… That and I haven't wanted to because what if it's an explanation as to why he left? I can't- I can't watch that. I can't watch that and see the look on his face. And I think if I looked at him now, I'd probably demand that we flew to wherever the Endeavour was to beam aboard, punch him in the face and kidnap him back to my ship, where he belongs. 

"But I can't force him to be here if he doesn't want to be, and he made that pretty fucking clear when he went behind my back to do that transfer request. Why the fuck would I want him back on my ship after that?

"But I still miss him. Is that normal? I mean, I feel his loss so keenly, his absence. Like some part of me's missing. And that's just not right. I keep trying to ignore it, but I've never lov- I've never cared about anyone the way I did about that stupid idiot and I'd never let anyone so close, into my life. 

"And he still left. I guess everyone was right about me when they used to tell me I wasn't worth it. 

"At least I'm a Starship Captain, youngest ever, which is something to be proud of, at least. Even if my mom doesn't care and Admiral Pike- I don't think I ever thanked him for what he did for me, for all the times he went to bat for me and took heat because I was an idiot who thought I was better than the rules. 

"I can leave my quarters now, the last of the virus has been purged and the crew are recovering, like I said. Some of them are still stuck off duty, Joaquin Castro's under orders to stay in bed for at least another week, nothing strenuous. I bet he's finding that hard considering he and Dr Russell are a couple and she's gorgeous; I'd have trouble ke- Computer, delete that last sentence, I can't say that. It's unprofessional, even if it's true."

He chuckled and pushed himself up, pacing back and forth again as he looked out of the viewport in his room, eyes roaming the vast black of space, the darkness that could probably drive a man insane if you looked for too long. 

"Aiden Kowalski's going to be fine, as are the others who were treated with the anti-virus after being exposed. M'Benga's continuing to monitor the situation from his own bed. Bones never would have caught the damn thing. He'd have dosed himself first, and then probably me so I could be useful and do stuff rather than just be locked up in my room like I was the diseased, contagious one. 

"We're dropping the survivors off on the next Federation controlled planet we find and then heading further out. We're pushing into more uncharted space, trying to find something new that another Federation race hasn't found. I get the feeling we're still trying to prove that humanity isn't just the newest kid on the block. I guess we've still got a lot to prove when compared to a couple of other more advanced races.

"But I won't let anyone down. I earned this command and I'm keeping it until I'm too old to do anything else and I've been promoted to Admiral. And since my original retirement plan's gone to shit, I guess I'll have to find some offworld place to live out what little of my days I'd have left. Heh. Let's face it, without adequate medical care, I wouldn't stand a chance.

"I want him back, you know.

"I'm going watch that video. Not now. But I'm going to. Maybe tomorrow.

"Allowing him to leave was the biggest mistake I think I've ever made. And I keep thinking it's just- it's way too late to fix it."

He thumbed the screen to submit the recording and bought up the data transmission he'd received four days after it was originally sent on 2259.165.

Tomorrow, he decided. Because he had to go and speak to his crew and check on the survivors and he wouldn't be able to do that with the ghost of Bones' voice echoing in his mind.


	11. Stardate 2259.244

_Stardate 2259.244 - One Hundred and Eighty Four Days After Bones_

It had been a long time coming, the video had just been sat in his inbox waiting to be opened, to be examined and watched and Jim had stared at it pretty much every day trying to bring himself to watch it. But he hadn't been able to. But he refused to let it go another hundred days without it being read and he was getting dangerously close to that. And he just- he needed to hear Bones' voice. He wanted to hear it. To see the Doctor and to know that he'd made the right decision in approving the transfer request. 

He locked his door and raked his fingers through his hair, settling in his desk chair and thumbing the holo on, watching as the screen opened and he saw Bones. The guy looked tired and thin and exhausted and worn. Jim felt his chest twist with worry but also with a surge of relief because Bones was okay. Bones wasn't- He wasn't in pieces, or so it looked and even though Jim was still angry - _hurt_ his mind snapped - just the sight of Bones was- God, Jim thought he looked incredible even though he'd seen him look a whole lot better. 

_“So, I’m probably the last person you probably want or ever expected to see again, but after the video package I got from that planet where you and the others had been captured I figure it was better late than never.”_

He watched Bones begin to pace, the camera following him. Jim thought that he must have hated that, having something hovering behind him all the time recording is every movement. 

_“I’ve spoken to M’Benga and as it turns out he ain’t been managing things well in my absence so I’ve given him a pep talk, about how he needs to be tougher. Not just on the crew, but on you as well. ’Cause even if I left I still know you, Jim. I know you ain’t lettin’ him do his job ‘cause you’re stubborn and you hate Doctors. Thing you gotta remember is that you gave him my job and in doing so you gotta give him the same respect you used to give me.”_

Jim's heart was hammering behind his ribcage and he felt a surge of irritation. Bones left him. Bones quit and walked out and lost all privileges as far as lecturing him went but he still felt guilty that he'd managed to cause Bones worry.

He could see the start of a headache in the way that Bones was pinching his nose, that was still censoring himself and trying to distance himself from what he was doing with the folded arms. He wondered why Bones had bothered sending this if he wasn't going to be honest, but that was the game they played, wasn't it. 

_“I may not be around anymore but that doesn’t give you the excuse to go acting crazy and out of control. I know you figure that the suicide play is all well an’ good as long as you’re the one pulling it, but you gotta remember something, Jim. You_ matter _, to your crew and to- Well you just matter an’ it’s about time you started acting like that.”_

"Yeah, I get it," he told the screen with a huff. The crew cared about him. He'd learned that the hard way when suddenly his bed had been surrounded by each and every crewman at one time or another when he was briefly in sickbay recovering from the kidnapping. He'd made a point to go around to every department, to speak to everyone. He already knew all of their names, but he really did take the time to get to know them as best he could because he wanted his crew to understand that all the dangerous shit he did was for them. "Tell me something I don't know, Bones." _Tell me I matter to **you**_ but that didn't happen and Jim found himself disappointed all over again. Of course, disappointment was his thing nowadays.

His eyes tracked the doctor's movements as he paced back and forth, gesticulating wildly. It struck him then that he wasn't drunk enough to be watching this.

_“I know we didn’t part on the best terms an’ you don’t understand why I left, but I did the right thing. For you, me, the crew. I was-“_

"What, Bones?" Jim challenged. He wished he'd pushed more in sickbay one hundred and eighty four days ago, gotten the answers he wanted then. He would have at least had closure then. 

_“Let’s just say I had a good reason for leaving, but you won’t believe me so I don’t know if it’s worth saying. Especially as I left ‘cause I didn’t trust myself not to tell you an’ trust me that would have been bad for everybody involved.”_

"But it's not for the best, you selfish bastard," he snarled at the screen, wanting to pause it, to delete the stupid message because it wasn't helping. It was making things worse because Bones was trying to make things better and he was just making it worse because Jim knew already that he hadn't been good enough before and he wasn't good enough now and apparently, even after all this damn time, he still wasn't good enough for a fucking explanation? A real one? 

God-fucking-dammit. 

_“Hell, Jim, let M’Benga help you. If not for you then do it for the crew. How are they meant to go on if their Captain’s falling apart at the seams?”_

Jim felt his breath catch at the anguish he could see. "Computer, pause video." He brushed his fingers over the screen, the image distorting under his touch and he knew that that look, that… anguish and pain would haunt him because fuck. _Fuck_. It was so much easier to be angry when he'd convinced himself that Bones just didn't give a shit and that was why he'd left. It was so much easier to think that Bones had left because he was making a decision that was in his best interests. 

But Bones fucking thought he was doing the right thing, didn't he. He was trying to be fucking noble and it didn't suit him. 

"Resume recording."

_“Look, I know I have no right considering I walked away from the Enterprise. But I still give a shit and that’s why I’m doin’ this, vidding you even though I’m pretty certain you’re gonna, in a fit of rage, delete it when you see this pop up in your mail.”_

There was an absurd surge of victory that Jim fell foul of; he still had it. Bones would be mortified to know Jim had seen this and he knew - as did Bones - that Jim knew his friend - former friend? - well enough to see the ticks and all the stuff that Bones probably hadn't wanted the video to reveal. 

_“But you know me I’m a stubborn bastard an’ I guess that’s what makes me good at my job. I don’t give in, but… with you and the Enterprise, I couldn’t be there anymore. Not without-“_

Jim watched his throat working, felt his own respond in kind, mimicking the movement and he so desperately just wanted to touch, reach out through the distance and vast amount of space between them and touch Bones and tell him that it was okay, that he was there and he had to stop dodging the fucking issue and just be honest for once because he was fucking tired of this stupid dance already and they hadn't even been doing it for that long.

_“Just- Look after yourself, kid.”_

"Yeah, Bones," Jim murmured, pausing the image again on Bones' face, looking straight at the camera. His fingers brushed over the holo again, watching it flicker and distort. "You too."


	12. Stardate 2259.255

_Stardate 2259.255 - One Hundred and Ninety Five Days After Bones_

"Bones. I got your vid. Shitty thing to do, send me that knowing I'd see all of your lines and stress and shit and that you'd just- that you'd just leave me hanging. You never did answer my question about why you were leaving. Gave me that same bullshit answer as you did before. That it was for the best. But it's not. It's not the case, it's not for the best because you're there and I'm here and we're not together.

"We're meant to be together. That's how it goes. Bones and Jim, Jim and Bones. How can you not see that?

"I don't give a shit what you were trying to deal with, you could have just talked to me, or to Adelaide, hell, even to Spock and we woulda worked out some way to help you with it. But you didn't have to turn tail and fucking run like some coward 'cause I know you're not.

"Ugh. This isn't turning out right. Computer, delete recording."


	13. Stardate 2259.256

_Stardate 2259.256 - One Hundred and Ninety Six Days After Bones_

"Bones. I got your vid. Thanks. It was good to hear from you. I'm glad that you're okay, though it wouldn't have killed you to call earlier. 

"Fuck this. Computer, delete recording."


	14. Stardate 2259.257

_Stardate 2259.257 - One Hundred and Ninety Seven Days After Bones_

"You look like shit, you know. Like, old. You really don't look great. Are you looking after yourself? I don't know why I asked that, you're clearly not. Fuck, Bones, you don't get to do that kind of shit yanno? Just leave and the not look after yourself on that ship.

"You had to know I'd see how shit you look when you sent me that holovid. Know I'd worry. What did you want to achieve by sending it? I mean, did you want me to come running and transport you off that damn ship? If that's the case, why the fuck did you leave me in the first place?

"I mean the Enterprise. Not me. I don't give a shit.

"I-

"Fuck, Bones. I miss you."

He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Computer, delete recording."


	15. Stardate 2259.258

_Stardate 2259.258 - One Hundred and Ninety Eight Days After Bones_

"Bones! Got your vid. Been busy doing captain things and that's why I haven't replied yet. Never mind that I-

"No. Computer, delete recording. I'm not doing this shit."


	16. Stardate 2259.259

_Stardate 2259.259 - One Hundred and Ninety Nine Days After Bones_

"It's nearly two hundred days since you left, Bones. Do you miss us here? The Enterprise? Me? The guys in Engineering really feel your absence, man, they're kicking everyone's ass in cards because they keep cheating and-

"No. I'm not doing this. I bet you don't even care that I haven't replied yet. Computer, delete this fucking recording and don't let me record something else so stupid in the future."


	17. Stardate 2259.260

_Stardate 2259.260 - Two Hundred Days After Bones_

Jim had been drinking. It was his thing; sometimes he had the odd glass to help him get to sleep, sometimes it was to soothe the ache that he felt at being so totally alone even though he was surrounded by friends. People didn't want to push or to ask him about Bones and he knew - he just _knew_ that they were all in touch with him, traitorous bastards. He knew it from hushed snippets of conversations he'd heard and it sounded like Bones was doing just fucking fine. Of course he would be, because Bones was used to moving on or something like that. Even though he'd fucking promised he'd never leave Jim, promised he'd never- They were meant to be together forever, that was how it was meant to be and maybe Jim hadn't realised in time that what he felt for Bones was more than just friendship and maybe now that he knew how he felt it scared the shit out of him but that wasn't the point. The point was that he- that he loved Bones, that Bones had made him fucking care and then left him high and dry like everyone else in Jim's life that he'd grown to care for and love. 

His crew were the exception; they were bound to him by duty and shared experiences and whilst he cared for them and there was nothing he wouldn't do (proven over and over again, but never more so than when he climbed into the warp core to stop them from free-falling to their deaths) for them because they were his family, he didn't love them the same way he loved Bones. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't breathe without Bones and that- that was just unacceptable, really. He just- He needed to be okay and two hundred days later he still wasn't. 

So he'd been drinking. He celebrated the two hundredth day without Bones by polishing off about half a bottle of Enterprise-brewed whiskey that had all the kick of genuine, 40 year old fire water that had gotten him past tipsy and into drunk faster than he had expected. Not that it mattered, he'd sat in Bones' room with two glasses, broken one of them against the wall and then walked back to his own quarters, locked the door and drank a silent salute to the fucked up situation that had led to his being here alone. 

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have decided at that point that he needed to tell Bones how he felt, but he had keyed up the holo-recorder before he could think twice about it, fingers oddly dextrous considering how much he'd had to drink, and it floated in the air, following his every move even though all he did was sprawl on the desk chair. 

"Happy two hundred day anniversary, jackass," he drawled at the camera, looking tired and hurt and angry and drunk. He waved a hand, "You know, it's been two hundred days now since you left to go onto the Endeavour and you sent me one message but I know you're in touch with everyone else. So, if that's the case, why was it better for everyone if you left? Why was it better that you left me and the ship and her crew to go off and do research projects?

"Because you left, seventy five members of my crew died. M'Benga's a good doctor but he's not you, Bones. And you woulda got the cure a whole lot faster. We wouldn't have lost anyone, an' that's your fault for leaving. Those people wouldn't be dead if you were here. I didn't tell their families that. I mean, there's no point passing blame when we were sabotaged, but I knew, I know that if you'd be here they wouldn't be dead. We wouldn't be dealing with a mourning crew who just can't-

"I fucking hope you're happy over there." He pressed his teeth together before his hands lifted, scrubbing over his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then reached out to pour some more whiskey in the glass on his desk. "Because I'm not fucking happy without you. M'Benga's _not_ my doctor, so he's not allowed to touch me unless I'm fucking unconscious and you know better'n anyone how hard it is to knock me out. You're a selfish sonuvabitch to just leave like that, you know, without giving me a proper explanation. Twice now, you've told me that it was 'better for everyone' but then- you're still in touch with everyone, just not me, so- I guess it's just me-" 

He blew out a breath, sighed heavily and got to his feet, knocking back the amber liquid in the glass and pacing, not looking at the holo-recorder as it followed his every movement. The bed behind Jim looked like it hadn't been slept in, and the couch was rumpled, like he'd only been kipping on the cushions instead of in the bed like he should have done. 

"You know, when I told you- when you found out about Tarsus IV and I told you about what had happened you promised it didn't change anything. Never did get round to tell you that my uncle Frank used to beat the crap out of me when he was having a bad day, told me that everyone would leave me in the end. Not too long after that, my mom came back from the black for two days. _Two days_ , Bones, before she was off again, left me and Sam behind. 

"Sam tried to run away, then we got shipped to Tarsus. He died there." His voice was hollow, empty, trying to be as void of emotion as possible, but his eyes were bright, shining a little, tears barely contained. "Pretty much everyone died there, my aunt and uncle, my cousins. Ms Sato. Everyone just- out of the nine of us who survived that saw his face… There's just me and Riley now, and he's- he's not doing so well anyway. Dr Russell's concerned about his mental state and I'll just be- it’ll just be me soon enough, and that- But that's kind of my thing, I guess, being alone. Always alone.”

He gave an empty laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know when I started to believe that you'd not leave me. Maybe some time in the Academy when you stuck by me no matter what stupid shit I did. I don't think I really believed it until you snuck me onto the Enterprise." He ran his hand fondly over the back of his couch. "Onto my ship. She should have been our ship, Bones, because that's what was meant to happen. You weren't meant to leave, and when you didn't leave me behind on Earth when you should have done I think I finally trusted you, trusted that you wouldn't royally screw me over and just abandon me like everyone else. But you did, Bones. You did and- And now I don't know how to shut off- I don't know how to stop caring. I don't even fucking remember how to sleep without you, Bones and that's absolutely pathetic.

"I- I don't even know when I stopped wanting to be just friends and wanted something more but you slammed that door in my face so many times it's no small wonder I was too afraid to try again and put myself out there. I mean, you might have thought I was just joking or whatever, but when I said that stuff, I always meant it. Why the hell else would I agree to retire to _Georgia_ of all places?! With horses? I meant what I said when we'd sail the stars together until we couldn't anymore, and then we'd settle down. 'Cause that's what I wanted Bones. I still want it. And I don't want to want it anymore and I don't know how to stop wanting it. I don't know how to stop missing you because I-"

He cut himself off, voice tight with emotion he was desperately trying not to show, but it was there in the downward turn of his lips, the shine to his eyes and the way he dashed at them like an angry teenager trying not to show that he was upset and hurting, trying to hide those feelings, to be the Jim Kirk the whole world thought he was, the carefree jackass who didn't commit and didn't love and didn't trust. And he wanted to be that person, he really did, more than ever right now. 

"I wanted to be good enough for you," he said finally, voice hitching, breaking on the words, "I tried so hard Bones and I don't know where I went wrong. I keep thinking back, trying to work it out, trying to find out what I did wrong so I could fix it but I don't know, Bones, I don't know and I-" He sounded desperate and lost, adrift in space without a fucking clue as to what he was meant to do here. "I've never been good at this kind of stuff and I just- I wanted to try for you, Bones, I really did and I just-"

He swallowed, dashed at his eyes again. He didn't want to care, he didn't want to feel this sore, like his whole ability to breathe and function like a normal human being wasn’t centred solely around his proximity to one Leonard H McCoy. And it wasn't even a lie; he'd tried, he'd tried so hard and there was desperation and loss in his voice, as on his face, the expression so raw - even more so than when he talked about Tarsus that first time. Even more so than when he blamed himself for Tim's death on Kryella IV as much as the deaths of all the other kids on Tarsus, of all the people he couldn't save including those that died when they went to Vulcan. If only he'd thought faster, if only he'd been more persistent, maybe someone would have noticed, maybe someone would have listened to him and they could have had a chance to escape, a chance of saving more than they did...

"But if my best wasn't good enough for you, then fuck you, McCoy, because that's all I had to give and-" He swallowed again, forcing it past the bile that was climbing up the back of his throat. He was trying to be angry but all that happened was he ended up sounding and looking resigned, like he was accepting this as fact, like he wasn't good enough and he should have always known that. Should have always known and never bothered to even try. He scratched at the scar on his jaw and he shook his head again, trying to get rid of that emotion, trying to get rid of those feelings that were screwing him over so much because that wasn't what he wanted, he didn't want any of this, not anymore but he didn't know how to stop and he wouldn't disrespect any member of his crew by losing himself in them. They deserved more than that, more than him.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he settled on saying slowly, carefully, "Because you look rough. You can't do much doctorin' if you're in pieces over there. Take care of yourself because you're- Take care of yourself and be safe, okay? As long as I know that you're safe I think- I think- I think I can-" he wet his lower lip, drew it between his teeth. "I think I can handle that. Knowing you're safe and alive. It'll have to be enough."

He gave one last look at the holo-recorder, raw pain and anguish and sorrow clear in his eyes before he looked away again and pressed his lips together. As he reached out to end the recording, he muttered, "I guess Uncle Frank was right all along." 

The recorder bleeped at him and whizzed over to the desk and Jim followed it, feeling numb and drained and so very _tired_. 

"Computer," he said, "Send file to comm ID: Dr Leonard McCoy on the USS-Endeavour. Mark as Confidential, requiring thumb print identification to view." 

The file was sent off before he could change his mind and Jim walked over to the bed for the first time in what felt like forever, falling face first into the sheets and closing his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that without another body in the bed the whole universe felt too damn big.


	18. Stardate 2259.266

_Stardate 2259.266 - Two Hundred and Six Days After Bones_

"Mr Scott," Jim said as he entered Engineering with a wince at the loud sounds and bright lights. Scotty glanced up from where he was working on trying to boost the efficacy of their air processors in the labs when Keenser hopped down from where he'd been perched up watching. "Keenser," Jim greeted with a nod of his head. "I wanted to talk to you too."

He'd had a six day hangover from that whiskey, it was only just fading and he was too stubborn to go to the sickbay and ask someone who wasn't his doctor to give him something to fix it so he'd just… handled it. He didn't like anyone who wasn't McCoy to touch him, Bones knew how he worked, he trusted Bones and his deep-seated mistrust of StarFleet medical staff affected his relationship with the current CMO. He'd trust M'Benga with the lives of his crew, but not him. 

"Aye, Captain?" Scotty asked, looking a little nervous and Jim snorted. Keenser tilted his head and the Scotsman narrowed his eyes. "Shut it, you," he grumbled, "I dinnae ken why he's down here."

"I'm here because you need to better label your whiskey." Jim rubbed at his temple and Scotty barked out a laugh that had him wincing all over again. "I've had a six day hangover from half a bottle and-"

" _Half the bottle?!_ Captain, wi' all due respect, you shoulda been unconscious after that. I did tell you y'need to drink it responsibly." Scotty shook his head, "Wee thing like you-" he continued, blithely ignoring how Jim ruffled at being called 'wee', "-shouldnae been drinkin' it alone anyways but not in that quantity. 'm impressed you're still standing." 

"I can hold my drink better than you people seem to think," Jim grumbled, folding his arms, feeling irrationally insulted by the whole thing. "Just- don't go giving that out to the people who can't handle it, okay? I don't mind you running a distillery down here, even if it's against about a dozen regulations, and I haven't told Spock, but just- make sure that if you're making stuff that's _that_ potent, it's given adequate and specific warnings. I don't want some of the crewmen in sickbay with alcohol poisoning."

Scotty looked chastised and nodded his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "Captain, I-"

"It's fine, Mr Scott," he said with a small smile, "It's my own fault for drinking so much anyway. I didn't actually feel it until a bit later and then I fell asleep. It's quite embarrassing, really." He was pretty sure he did something else, too, but he wasn't entirely sure what, but since he hadn't woken up with bite marks or in someone else's quarters so he supposed he hadn't done something too awful. It'd come back to him, whatever it was. "I just want to make sure no one else falls foul of your fire-water." He chuckled.

"Most people aren't in th' habit of drinkin' alone, Captain," Scotty said, looking like he wanted to take the words back almost the moment they'd spilled off his lips.

Jim gave him a small, sad smile and patted Scotty's upper arm. "Neither was I," he replied, turning his head and walking away, folding his arms across his chest and ignoring the flare of hurt at the knowledge that everyone aboard his ship knew that without Bones, his social life was pretty much non-existent.


	19. Stardate 2259.269

_Stardate 2259.269 - Two Hundred and Nine Days After Bones_

It wasn't like he didn't try to bond with the rest of his crew. He did. He really did. He went to the movie nights where they watched holos and sometimes old blockbuster movies from the times when things were in theatres and watching pictures like this was an evening's entertainment. But during one scene where emergency medicine was being performed on the battlefield, Jim found himself looking at the inaccuracies.

He turned his head to the side, about to point them out to Bones, to allow his friend to rant quietly about how to correctly sew up someone's stomach if their intestines were hanging out and there was nothing but empty space beside him.

He sighed and got to his feet, leaving. He hadn't been enjoying the film anyway.


	20. Stardate 2259.279

_Stardate 2259.279 - Two Hundred and Nineteen Days After Bones_

"Captain's Log, supplemental. The peace talks with the Opponians went well. Admiral Snow would be eating his words now. He told me when I was at the Academy that I had all the diplomatic graces of a Klingon in heat, but look at me, creating actual diplomatic relations without causing any incident or blowing anything up. I think I've done well in that regard.

"They're willing to trade their weapons technology with us if we share some of our medical innovations. They're a fragile people, really easily injured. Their skin's like tissue paper, a sneeze could rupture their organs, so they're really interested in stuff that might help them, y'know, not die. Their average age is so young, the people we met up with couldn't have been more than fifteen. It's a lot of responsibility on someone that young. 

"But if the elders die off so quickly… We're moving on now anyway, we've set everything up, I think the USS-Rose'll be coming along. Captain Killian's last mission before retirement, I think, not a moment too soon. That man and I have never seen eye to eye, but he's a good captain, well overdue promotion to Admiral, if you ask me, but then… 

"I think that there's a lot of good we can do out here. I'm worried in some ways because really, if there are races out there who don't have immunity to anything, a simple sneeze could cause genocide. I don't think I really considered that before.

"I've been seeing Dr Russell just to help me sleep. It's not working yet, but my ability to command can't be bought into question; I get enough that I'm alert and capable of doing my job, I just keep having bad dreams. Really bad dreams. And that's- well, that sucks, to be honest. But what can you do?

"She said I should stop using my log as a personal therapist and speak to her instead. I told her 'no' and wandered out of her office. I know she's in touch with Bones. I think most of the command crew are. I know Nyota's talked to him recently; I overheard her and Chekov talking about him. I still don't care, but it irritates me that they act like it's some big secret. I wonder if Bones has told them not to tell me that they talk.

"They can talk to him if they want. I don't much care. It's not my business. I guess I'm more bothered than anything that he's not messaged me again. I know I haven't replied, but if he really-

"Well. The Captain's Log isn't meant to be for personal therapy, but for as long as we're stuck out here and I've really not got many other people to talk to… I feel sorry for you guys who end up listening to this. 

"What even happens to the Captain's Logs? Do they ever get listened to or just archived somewhere never to be heard again? Do they get the same sort of privacy as a diary? 

"I wonder if I can listen to any logs from other ships. Like from the Kelvin… or from the USS-Sentinel when it came to get me off Tarsus IV. I'd have loved to hear what their explanation was for why they were so late, why they let so many of us die at that mad man's hands. I know some of the other communications had to have gotten out before my one did, he couldn't have blocked them all.

"I guess this is just to keep a log of how things really are out in the black. StarFleet would never let it come to light how dire the situation out here can be and how difficult sometimes people find it. I'm not surprised that people go mad when they're out here. I'm not at all surprised. Thankfully, I was born in the black. I belong out here as much as anyone, maybe even more so. If I was stuck planetside for the rest of all time, I think that would drive me insane.

"I know I'm lucky to have this command, believe me, I know. And I’ll not do anything to jeopardise it. The Enterprise is my ship, and I'll captain her until I can't do it anymore. And I'll take good care of her, and my crew, and everyone else who ends up on here, be they a refugee or a passenger.

"I finally understand what it means to be a Captain. To make the hard choices and the difficult calls and how lonely it is sometimes. But it was my decision to be Captain. Mine and mine alone and even though he's not here, I won't let Pike down. I'll make him proud of me. Him and my dad."


	21. Stardate 2259.292

_Stardate 2259.292 - Two Hundred and Thirty Two Days After Bones_

"Stop looking back and just run!" Jim yelled, biting back on his highly inappropriate gut reaction to laugh at the situation they'd found themselves in. He ducked his head and sped up, forcing already abused and tired muscles to just work harder as the whole away team sprinted back to the beam-up site away from the dampening shields set up by the local people. He thought about the last time he'd been running for his life, he'd been with Bones, listening to the man shouting how much he hated this. He nearly stumbled. He hadn't thought about Bones for a while, he'd just been focused on being a good captain and doing right by his crew. He'd been moping for too long, but he was hit with a sudden surge of nostalgia, an ache that reminded him that it didn't matter how long it had been, he still missed the other man. 

"Captain, might I suggest we escape the dampening field and request an immediate evac," Spock asked, voice still even as he was running ahead of everyone else, speaking over their communicators. Jim had hung back because Sulu had twisted his ankle and he needed to make sure that the guy was okay and wasn't going to get his ass captured. That was the last thing they'd needed.

This incident hadn't even been his fault (mostly). The daughter of the King had taken a real shine to both him and Sulu, and after one too many drinks, Sulu touched her, smudging the bronze ink that covered her skin and marked him as an adulterer. He was pretty sure she'd been that provocatively dressed to incite some kind of incident. None of the other females were dressed like that. But, never-the-less, it created an incident, the King was roaring for their heads which was why they were sprinting through the undergrowth to get away from the King's Guard who were out to kill them and bring their heads back on spikes. 

"Yes, Spock, let's just get out of here before we get spiked!" He stumbled again, catching himself on the ground. "Keep running, Sulu," he ordered, getting back to his feet and risking a glance behind them. Damn, those bastards were fast. "Weapons!" he added a second later, pulling his phaser out just in case they got too close. They'd only wanted to explore the planet, that was it, it wasn't his fault his helmsman had gotten a little handsy with the princess. And in his defence, she was all over him and even if he'd just been meaning to push her away, it still would have ended the same way, with them being wanted criminals. 

Sulu was doing his best, stumbling as he was because his ankle was really sore and already about twice its normal size, constrained by the regulation StarFleet footwear which was probably the only thing keeping him up and Jim was hot on his heels though they all knew Jim could be at the front giving Spock a run for his money if he'd really wanted to. 

He slid under Sulu's arm. 

"Mr Spock," he yelled into the communicator, "How far are we from the edge of the field?"

"I would estimate another five hundred yards, Captain. Are you and Mr Sulu going to make it?" 

"Yes! Just- get out of the damn field and hail the Enterprise. We need to get out of here now- Shit!" Both he and Sulu hit the floor as a spear came shooting between their faces, digging into the ground in front of them. Damnit, now they were close enough to throw shit? That wasn't good. 

"I'm really sorry, Captain," Sulu said into the dirt because he'd fallen face first. "She was just-"

"Yeah, buddy," Jim said as he hauled Sulu to his feet again. "I know. Let's get out of here alive first. I can chastise you later." Behind them, the guard were whooping and hollering as they got ever closer. Jim turned around and shot at the ground with his phaser which made them stop quickly, looking at the advanced weaponry with suspicion but it didn't last long. 

It was enough, though. 

"C'mon Sulu, just run and we'll get out of here." 

A few minutes later at a flat out sprint, both Sulu and Jim leapt through the field and landed at Spock's feet who merely looked bemusedly at them before he tapped his chest. "Spock to Enterprise, three to beam up." 

Jim had never been so grateful to be dematerialised in his whole life.


	22. Stardate 2259.295

_Stardate 2259.295 - Two Hundred and Thirty Five Days After Bones_

"And so he told me that if I did something that stupid again, he'd not cure me next time and that I wasn't to go crying to him if my balls shrivelled up and fell off!" The story was finished with a raucous round of laughter from the crewmen that were gathered in the rec room sharing stories over a few glasses of alcohol and a game of cards.

"He said the same thing to me," another said - Yeoman Hart, Jim's mind told him. "Except that he wouldn't be helping me give birth to some kind of half-human, half-alien baby if I didn't use protection." She giggled, "He's good, isn't he. Dr McCoy." 

Jim felt like the world had been sucked out from underneath him and he must have made a sound because there was silence suddenly, and the whole crew looked guilty. Yeoman Hart got to her feet.

"Sorry, Captain, we didn't see you there," she said apologetically, like she felt she'd done him a great wrong by talking about Bones. Jim was confused; was he so visibly screwed up by the doctor's departure? If so, that- that was unthinkable. 

He shook his head, waved a hand. "It's fine, Yeoman," he reassured, standing up straighter and coming to sit on the outside of the circle. A couple of people shuffled their chairs so he could join in. "I haven't heard people tell their own personal experiences of Dr McCoy before. I'd like to stay if possible. I'd be happy to add my own," he added with a small quirk of his lips. 

Crewman Peters tilted his head invitingly and Jim chuckled, pushed past the throbbing in his chest. "I don't know how many people were here for the Enterprise's maiden voyage under Admiral Pike, Captain Pike, as he was back then." Everyone shook their heads, damn, he hadn't realised that this crew were loyal to him and him alone because they'd been the ones he'd saved with his- with his sacrifice. These people were his crew. They weren’t the crew he’d inherited from Pike.

He lifted a shoulder. "Well, I'd been suspended for cheating - it wasn’t cheating, I maintain, it was _out of the box thinking_ \- when the call came that everyone was going up into the black to answer a distress call from Vulcan. But Bones- Dr McCoy- couldn't leave me behind so he stabbed me with a hypo filled with the vaccine against viral infection from Melvaren mud fleas. It made my left eye go funny, I got all sweaty and couldn't walk properly and my head was killing. But he got me onto the Enterprise and knocked me out with a hypospray once we were in the sickbay." He chuckled fondly at the memory, even if he'd been furious with the way events had unfolded at the time. 

"I remember hearing something over the conn about a lightning storm in space. And as you all know from your history classes at the Academy, there was a lightning storm in space the day I was born, when the USS-Kelvin went head to head with an advanced ship with advanced weaponry." He glanced at the crew; they were sitting there in rapt fascination, just listening to him talk. "And I was allergic to the vaccine he'd pumped me full of, so he kept shooting me with hypos." He grimaced and rubbed at his neck as a couple of the crewmen laughed, a little uncertainly as if they weren't sure that they were allowed to. "At one point, he was chasing me through the corridors of the lower deck, armed with various anti-histamines and drugs to stop the allergic reactions I kept having. When we worked out that it was a trap, I ran towards the bridge with hands the size of baseball mitts and my tongue was swollen beyond all belief - it wasn't pretty, believe me - and Bones was behind me yelling that I had to _keep your heartrate down, dammit Jim!_ and behind him was Uhura, confused but wanting to be a part of the action even then, the two of them chasing me through the ship and onto the bridge." He laughed again, pleased when the crew joined him, all seemingly genuinely amused by the story. "And that was just when we first started." 

He felt warmed, whilst he still fiercely missed Bones, somehow taking about him like this with their fond memories - none of the personal ones that Jim kept locked in his chest - being shared made him feel a little better. Soon enough, the exploits he and Bones had been through together - which expanded to include the crew in general and only the funny ones - were being told and the whole group were in peals of laughter, raucous and amused. The group had grown bigger, those that were there adding their two cents to the story and the communal storytelling session went on late into the night. 

It was, Jim realised as he was on the way back to his quarters much later on, the first time he'd been able to think about Bones and still breathe. Was that a good thing?


	23. Stardate 2259.358

_Stardate 2259.358 - Two Hundred and Ninety Eight Days After Bones_

"Captain's Log, supplemental. Nearly the end of the year. I've managed to secure some downtime for the crew over new year, just so that they can let loose. StarFleet've allowed us three days of shore leave on a nearby planet that doesn't have too much on it but it's Federation approved and we'll be well cared for. 

"I think it's in recognition of the fact that we've now completed nine diplomatic missions successfully and created new relationships with another three planets and peoples. The last one was interesting, they bonded with their partners through an intense ritual of sex, telepathy and dipping their whole bodies in these sort of… crystal things. Spock and M'Benga both were fascinated with them, so the indigenous people gave us a sample to examine. But they were very clear that only one person could handle them at any one time because otherwise there was the risk of bonding. And since bonding's irreversible, I can't imagine Nyota would be happy if Spock ended up bonded to the CMO.

"I'd find it hilarious, but their bonds are intense. Like… they can't be apart from each other for too long or they begin to die. Their bodies sort of just… malfunction and shut down if they're physically too far apart, and they crave each other's touch if they've gone too long without. Talk about co-dependency. 

"When we were on the planet, one of our aides… her bondmate, the woman she'd been with for nearly ninety years, died. It only took two days, but we watched our aide wither and crumple in front of us. She tried to put on a brave face, but that- the grief she felt destroyed her. She died in Nyota's arms and we tried to help her but she just said it was what she wanted; she couldn't imagine existing without her mate. And it- I think it struck all of us. I felt a little envious, I gotta admit, to love someone that much that-

"Well. I promised you I wasn't going to talk about Bones. So I'll stop there. But they were very interested in joining the Federation and learning more about our peoples and cultures. They're open to diplomatic talks, and looking forward to becoming a part of something bigger than themselves. I guess when you go, just watch out, because they're a feisty lot, and they're really attractive. Those that don't have bondmates are feisty, that is. I've never seen such dogged monogamy in my life from those that are bonded.

"All in all, it was a good experience. Their culture was beautiful. I'd like to go back there, I think, one day.

"We're meandering back into charted territories for a bit close to the New Year. I'll be twenty seven next year, in 2260. Not a particularly special year but I bet there'll be a comm for me asking for a comment on my father's sacrifice. I don't know how those vultures keep getting out here. Bones'll be thirty three. I wonder if they'll do something for him for his birthday out there on the Endeavour.

"I might comm him."

Jim turned his head when his desk bleeped as a message came into his inbox. It looked like a video that he'd sent, it had a 'return to sender' on it, or as much as they had nowadays. It looked like he'd sent it to Bones, and God, he'd sent it ninety eight days ago, how long had it taken to bounce back to him? But if he'd sent it to the Endeavour and it was sent back… 

Where was Bones?

And in that moment, Jim felt himself backsliding. 

"Where the hell is he?" he asked the computer, but it didn't answer. All it did was take the following silence as a sign that he'd finished talking and submitted his Log to the archive. 

He didn't delete the message.

He didn't look at it either.


	24. Stardate 2259.360

_Stardate 2259.360 - Three Hundred Days After Bones_

Jim didn't do anything for the three hundredth day anniversary. He'd already been angry, he'd aready been drunk and he'd been hurting - he still was, if he let himself brood on it for too long. He spent the evening with Nyota and Spock, playing an intense game of 3D chess and crowing in delight when he beat the Vulcan at his own game for the first time in three years. 

Though, because she was evil, Nyota put it in Spock's mind that they play best of three, which then became best of five, which became best of seven because Jim didn't win again and wasn't so willing to admit defeat after having had a taste of victory. 

And when he went to bed, he walked past Bones' quarters - because that room would always belong to Bones - and pressed his hand against the door.

"Still not the same without you, Bones," he told the door, quietly. And his footsteps echoed as he headed to his own room to try and sleep, curled up on the couch because the bed was too big despite the fact that the couch was killing his back. 

One day he'd try the bed again.

Just not tonight.


	25. Stardate 2259.365

_Stardate 2259.365 - Three Hundred and Five Days After Bones_

The whole crew were planetside. They'd landed the Enterprise in a deserted patch of land and piled onto solid ground, breathing in the heavily oxygenated atmosphere, set up barbecues and generally just took the time to unwind. The planet they were on had two moons and both were full and cresting in the sky as Scotty set up a holo with a countdown to 2260.01. The beginning of a new year, the beginning of a whole new chapter of the lives of the crew of the Enterprise. 

Jim had spent most of the evening planetside on the ground, mingling with the crew, glad to see that they were alive and just enjoying themselves. He'd noted that Uhura and Spock had excused themselves earlier on and had yet to return. It caused his lips to turn up in the corner, and that smirk became a smile when he saw Adelaide being picked up and spun by Joaquin as they horsed around, her protests smothered by a kiss that she was more than happy to return. Even Aiden and Sarah were sat together, foreheads touching as they shared a drink. 

When the countdown started, Jim headed to his ready room, glass of bourbon in his hand.

"Happy new year, Bones," he said to thin air as the clock ticked over and it was officially 2260.01. "Wherever you are."


	26. Stardate 2260.04

_Stardate 2260.04 - Three Hundred and Nine Days After Bones_

It was his birthday. He was twenty seven and his comm was blinking with a missed call from 2259.360 but he didn't recognise the location - it looked like the space station Elysium and he didn't know why they'd be comming him - and as such, dismissed it as someone trying to get in touch with him early about his father's heroic sacrifice. Twenty seven years and they still couldn't just let his father lie. Couldn't just let him - the only surviving son of George Kirk, the Hero's Hero son - live in peace. 

Hah. That was ironic. He'd been promoted as a publicity stunt, made a spectacle of his whole life by public figures and authority and the only thing the Federation had done right by him save for giving him his ship was to keep it out of public knowledge that he'd been a survivor of Tarsus and really, they had only done that because they were trying to save their own skin. He didn't want to imagine how the public would react to the knowledge that the son of the Federation's golden boy had been allowed to nearly starve to death on that planet. 

"Computer, lights fifty percent." He lounged on the couch, watching his comm and wishing more than anything that he received a message from Bones. Just a little something, but they'd gone so far with absolute radio silence it wasn't- it wasn't like he was expecting it to be broken right now. In all honesty, he wasn't surprised that he hadn't heard from the other man. He just- he just wished that he hadn't left. That their friendship hadn't been terminated over something that was quite clearly stupid and- God, he missed him. He missed him so much and time really wasn't making it any easier. 

He closed his eyes. "Play file 002." 

Leaning back into the couch cushions, the room was filled with the only recording he ever had of his father's voice.

_"All decks, this is the Captain speaking -- evacuate the ship immediately, get to your designated shuttle crafts -- repeat: evacuate ship and get to designated shuttles -- NOW!"_

_"George!"_

_"I have medical shuttle 37 standing by, get to it now -- can you do that?"_

_"Yes -- where are you?"_

_"I'm on my way."_

_"Good-- and George, it's coming-- our baby, it's coming now."_

_"I'll see you in a minute, sweetheart."_

_"Captain to shuttle 37 -- is my wife on board?"_

_"Yessir, she is--"_

_"I need you to go now, d'you hear me?"_

_"We're waiting for you, Sir--"_

_"No-- go, take off, immediately."_

_"... yessir!"_

_"Wait! We can't go, my husband isn't here yet! Please! STOP--!"_

_"You'll need to push now-- are you ready?"_

_"AAAH- The shuttle's leaving-- where are you?_

_"My love? Listen carefully, okay?"_

_"-- we're about to have this baby --"_

_"Sweetheart... I'm not going to be able to be there."_

_"-- no-- no, no-- wait--"_

_"I want you to hear me. Please."_

_"Are you still on the ship? No-"_

_" -- There's no other way-- my love-"_

_"- no, you need to be here--"_

_"you know all I want--"_

_"George, I can't do this without you-"_

_"-- all I want in the world is to be with you--"_

_"-- please -- don't d--"_

_"Okay- you need to push… push-"_

_"Hey! Hey, so what is it?"_

_"-- it's a boy."_

_"It's a boy? Yeah? Tell me... tell me about him-- please--"_

_"He's-- he's beautiful, he looks like you. George, you should be here --"_

_"I know-- so what should we call him, huh?"_

_"We could name him after your father."_

_“Tiberius? Are you kidding me? No, that's the worst-- we'll name him after your dad-- let's call him Jim."_

_" ... Jim. Jim it is."_

_"Sweetheart? Sweetheart? I love you. Can you hear me?"_

_"-- yes-- yes, I hear you…"_

_"-- I love you. I love y--"_

He'd never managed to listen to it before, never in full. He'd always tried and Bones had always come blustering in to stop him. And he wished that Bones was here right now because- God. He curled into the couch and cried, hearing his father's voice and his mother's broken cries, the stunned silence over the comm that was broken only by his own wailing. 

God, he wished he hadn't done that. Wished he hadn't pressed play. Wished Bones was there to talk him out of this. But he wasn't. And on some level that was his fault. He deserved this. He deserved to listen to it again.

"Computer, rewind and replay file."

He curled up on the couch, lying on his side. "Lock the door, captain's override and turn off my comm."

He closed his eyes, trying to put the face he'd grown up seeing plastered across posters and articles and dissertations to the warm voice so full of love and fear that was echoing in his ears. 

He missed Bones so much he thought he was going to be sick, but all he could do was lie on the couch and cry for the father he'd never known, the mother he'd lost the day he was born and the best friend he never knew he'd really needed, or maybe he'd always known but had just never acknowledged it until he was gone.


	27. Stardate 2260.14

_Stardate 2260.14 - Three Hundred and Nineteen Days After Bones_

"Captain," Uhura's voice was clear from her position behind him and he tilted his head to indicate he was listening. 

"Lieutenant," he said, knowing how the eyes of the whole bridge were on her as she spoke. They always were whenever any of the command crew opened their mouths, it wasn't just a respect thing. Jim was pretty sure half the crew had a little thing for Uhura, they just didn't dare admit it because she'd take them down and if she didn't, her feelings-are-illogical-but-don't-look-at-my-girl boyfriend, Spock would. 

"We're receiving a distress call from the Space Station Elysium. A shuttle has crashed into one of their docking stations which has resulted in multiple civilian casualties. They're requesting immediate medical and engineering assistance to stabilise their ship."

Jim sat up a little straighter. For some reason, he thought about the message he'd received from the Elysium a little while ago - dated as being sent on his birthday - and the other missed call from earlier on in the year. Sharp eyes caught Dr Adelaide Russell shifting uncomfortably to his left and he turned his head to look at her, fix her with the look he knew made her uncomfortable and cave to tell him what he wanted to know - when it mattered, anyway.

"Doctor?" he asked, "Something to add?"

"No, Captain," she said quickly but Jim didn't believe her. He'd ask her about it later. "I just think we should get there as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Spock said at the same time Jim said "We should,” and the two looked at each other with a slight smile. 

Jim cleared his throat. "Sulu, how far away are we from the Elysium?"

Sulu tapped in the co-ordinates from the distress signal and wet his lower lip, "Two and a half days at maximum warp, Captain," he said, punching in the directions because he knew what was coming next.

"Punch it." 

The ship leapt to warp with a whirring of the engines. 

"Bridge to Engineering," Jim tapped the comm on the arm of the chair that fitted him so well.

"Aye Captain?"

"Keep us running hot, Scotty. We need to get somewhere fast."

"Will do, Captain," Scotty replied, ending the communication to do whatever it was he did down there when he wasn't busy complaining or injuring himself. 

Jim hesitated before he touched another button, the comm bleeping to determine a ship-wide broadcast.

"Attention all crew, this is the Captain. At-" a quick glance at the chronometer, "-2235 today we received a distress call from the Space Station Elysium. There's been an accident with a large casualty rate and a lot of structural damage. I want everyone who's got engineering and technological experience to do whatever they can when we get there. You go in, you ask what needs doing and you do it. If you can do something better, you tell them and do it your way.

"We'll be lending them our entire medical staff so make sure you're all rested, there's a lot of damage from what we can gather and since the Elysium's just a 'port it probably doesn't have the same provisions as we do. I want our sickbay ready to receive any of the more seriously injured if they can't be treated there. If their facilities are good enough, we're going to them. Our CMO will relieve their lead surgeon upon our arrival and all of you medical staff will be beamed down to the sickbay immediately.

"Everyone else, damage control as much as possible, please. The Elysium's got a lot of civilians and not a lot of StarFleet. These people are going to be scared and grieving and they'll need reassurance. You'll be representing StarFleet but also, humanity in some cases. Don't let me down, just- just help them as best you can, okay? 

"I don't know how long we'll be there, probably until another ship shows up but we're the closest. It's still going to take us a couple of days, but I'll keep you updated. If you have any questions, you know where I am.

Kirk out."

He glanced at his watch and got to his feet. It was that time of day again, the pills felt heavy in his pocket and his head felt woozy already. Spock stepped forward, a hand on the small of his Captain's back in silent reassurance. 

"Mr Spock, you have the conn. I'll be back shortly." 

The whole bridge watched him go. They all knew what happened next; people had talked after the incident on Junden. A couple of crewmen had heard Chekov telling Sulu about the torture Jim had undergone, how he hadn't screamed for so long and when they got him out, how they'd had to give him those pills and the effect they'd had. Now most of the crew knew what he went through on a daily basis numerous times and they still respected him for it. Perhaps even a little bit more. 

The door to his ready room whooshed shut behind him and he leaned against it for a moment before he just moved to the bathroom to sit on the floor in preparation and he took his pills.

All he could think, as he threw up into the toilet, was that Bones would be so proud of him for continuing this regime and that, if Bones was here, he wouldn't be doing this alone.

He pretended that the tears that burned in the corner of his eyes were only from the acrid stench of his own bile.


	28. Stardate 2260.17

_Stardate 2260.17 - Three Hundred and Twenty Two Days After Bones_

The Elysium was a wreck, Jim had immediately ordered his medical team to be transferred onto the ship after speaking a nurse who said that their sickbay had been recently retrofitted and revamped with the newest equipment and the influx of patients was getting bigger. He'd ordered the medical crew there so they were beamed down immediately, right into the thick of it and from what he'd heard, the reason most of the survivors were still alive was because of the efforts of the station's sole trauma surgeon who had been on duty for seventy two hours straight until someone - the medical staff didn't know who, for sure - had marched him out of sickbay and to his room with a sedative in her hand.

Uhura had called him before they'd left the ship, caught his arm and told him she'd heard a garbled message when she was replaying the transmissions she'd been sent along with the distress signal. She told him it had said 'freedom for all' in Federation Standard, in English, but that there had been an accent. She said she'd be trying to clean it up, determine what the accent was, but that this had been an attack, not an accident. 

As Captain, James T Kirk had decided not to tell his crew what had happened because it was largely need to know and he didn't want them accidentally saying something to the civilians and panicking them further. As a StarFleet Officer, he reported it to Central Command and as a person he felt a fear twisting in his stomach that if this was an attack, what was next?

He ordered a security contingent, led by Lieutenant Matt Riley, to take a shuttle and examine the wreckage. To take any survivors prisoner - though he did receive a comm saying that there weren't any, the bodies had been burned up upon impact - and to try and determine what kind of ship it was that had flown into the Elysium. They couldn't even find a black box. Not only had the ship crashed into the hangar bay, but it had been rigged to explode. The largest piece was about the size of a dinner table and that was really only a standardised piece of grey hull casing. Nothing that could identify a ship. 

He shook his head, focusing back on the nurse who was filling him in on what had happened. 

"These people wouldn't be alive now if it weren't for the doctor," she was saying, and M'Benga was moving quickly behind them, barking orders at all the staff - his own and this other doctor's - checking on existing patients and scrubbing down in the sonic shower for surgery to begin on those injured that were still pouring in. "He's been working for seventy two hours, pretty much, with no sleep. And all those…" She wet her lower lip. "We lost a lot of children."

Jim felt his stomach clench. "I'm sorry, Nurse," he said honestly, his Captain voice soothing. "I'm sure you all did as much as you can. My crew'll take over now so you can all grab some sleep. You need to rest to come back and do more good." He swallowed, reached out. She looked surprised that someone with command stripes was speaking to her in such a way. He filed that reaction away. "Your doctor have a name?"

The nurse didn't say anything for a moment, she looked exhausted from the simple touch to her shoulder. 

"What? Oh- Yeah. McCoy. Dr McCoy." 

Jim felt his whole world tilt on an axis, but from the sudden yelling and surge of panic around him, it was probably just the station's inertial dampeners and anti-gravity systems rebooting and trying to force restart.

*

"Captain's Log, supplemental.

Their trauma surgeon's Bones.

Bones is here."


	29. Stardate 2260.19

_Stardate 2260.19 - Three Hundred and Twenty Four Days After Bones_

Jim had made a steadfast effort not to go back to the sickbay and risk seeing Bones. He thought if he did, he'd punch the man for being so stubborn and stupid and Good Lord Jim was worried that after he'd seen him and punched him that he'd kiss him stupid, punch him again and then childishly hide away in the Enterprise. So instead of going back to sickbay - he got hourly updates from M'Benga and his staff anyway - he went to help with manual repairs, doing heavy lifting to keep himself occupied, to keep his mind busy. It did mean that his fingers summarily got crushed about half a dozen times, that a plank fell on his head (which really hurt because it was made of steel and dammit, now he was bleeding) and just generally, he - and the rest of the repair crew, StarFleet and civilian alike - got bashed about. Injuries just seemed attracted to James T Kirk like nothing else (well, save for exotic men, women and trouble, always trouble).

And all through the time he was helping with the repairs, he kept getting strange look from the staff that worked on the base and the civilians as if it were some kind of strange occurrence that there was a Starship Captain getting his hands dirty helping out, learning people's names, taking an interest and showing concern for the crew of a base that wasn't his to command. But he saw that people fell in line, did things he asked them to, and when he cornered an officer and demanded to know where their Captain was, he didn't like what he was told. 

Several people told him the Captain of the Elysium drank too much, that he abused his position as Captain and used it to get sex or favours or substances he shouldn't be having. He shirked his duties and delegated, could be found fucking some young woman when he should be showing diplomats around. No wonder, Jim thought, that they were all so shocked to see him treating them like valued individuals if they'd only ever experienced this shitty Captain. 

He'd found Captain Shafer in the Nebula Bar on the lower deck. It was nearly empty save for those few twisted fucks who wanted to dance and drink their way into reminding themselves that they were alive whilst their shipmates were slicing their hands raw trying to repair their home. The Captain had already had enough to drink that he was well on his way to being drunk and didn't take too kindly to Jim lecturing him in front of everyone. He'd stood up tall, tried to threaten Jim but it was like waving a red flag at a raging bull and Jim's fist connected with Shafer's jaw in a punch that sent the other man slamming into the bar before he turned around and came straight back for Jim with an enraged howl and the two ended up brawling until security separated them, bleeding and growling at each other, snarling and breathing heavily. It had been a long time coming, Jim snapping into a fight, and he wouldn't lie and say that it hadn't felt good because, God, it really had.

"Lock that piece of sh- put him in the brig," Jim had ordered, daring the security guard to disagree with him. "This man's not fit to lead. I'm revoking his right to Captaincy under StarFleet Regulation 104, section C; an officer who is medically or psychologically unfit for command may be relieved by another ranking officer on that basis. Being stranded out here's compromised him completely and as such he can't be trusted to look out for the best interests of those on his ship." His eyes were burning, bright and alive from the fighting, daring anyone to challenge him, the youngest StarFleet Captain in history. James Tiberius Kirk, the man who wrote legends by just breathing. Granted, he was playing fast and loose with the regulation, but whatever, it wasn’t like anyone would challenge him right now. "He'll be suspended pending a disciplinary hearing where he'll be brought to account for his conduct." 

But that fight was how he'd ended up in the infirmary again, wasting a bed that would be better suited for someone who actually needed it. He was perched on the edge, knuckles bleeding on the floor, a cut from the beam that had fallen on his head yesterday already dried, crusted blood on his hairline and the split to his lip and above his eyebrow (that wouldn't scar this time, not like the last one, the newest mark that told the story of his life) bleeding into his mouth and into his eye, so he had to blink repeatedly to keep his vision clear. 

M'Benga was fussing over him and Jim just shook his head. "Nope. These beds are for- keep that thing away from me- those that are more injured than I am. I'm okay, doc, really. Just- no, keep that fu- _ow!_." He winced as his arm was jabbed with a hypospray and he scowled at the doctor, getting to his feet. "Look, you're not treating me and that's final." He did feel a little woozy, though, and his chest- God, his ribs hurt. His kidneys hurt and the fact that he'd been hit with a bottle probably hadn't done him much good either. At least, he thought, the alcohol had probably sterilised his face.

"Captain Kirk," M'Benga said, trying to be more stern than usual but Jim levelled him with a look.

"I'm leaving. And when it's less busy, I'll be back. Oh- wait, is someone calling for you?" he asked, looking behind M'Benga and grinning when someone did call for the doctor upon seeing him turn around to look for that person Jim hadn't heard. He loved it when things went his way. 

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Uh huh, sure you will." Jim muttered as M'Benga walked off. "Computer, engage privacy screen." It whooshed down from above, the opaque screen that gave the illusion of privacy meant that Jim could pull off his black shirt and inspect the damage. Bruising over his ribs, probably not broken but fractured, and though he couldn't twist, he was pretty sure there was an ugly bruise along his lower back from where he'd collided with the bar, Shafer's arms locked around his waist, trying to slam him against it to knock him down. "Ugh."

He turned to the bed, picked up his shirt again and began to re-dress, feet already stuffed into his boots with the laces undone, beginning his escape plans. What he needed to do was get away before M'Benga came back and head up to the Enterprise where he could just hide away for a little while, call StarFleet Command and report the crappy Captain they had here and then supervise the repairs from the relative safety of his ship. The more time he spent on the Elysium, the more he knew he'd just end up running into Bones and he didn't want that. 

Besides, he was currently trapped in Bones' domain and he needed to get away before the Lord of the Manor returned and caught him red handed.

Though, as he tugged his shirt on over his head, forcing his arms through the sleeves and ignoring the way it pulled at his overworked and abused muscles and skin, he heard the whooshing of the privacy screen. He didn't need to turn around to know he'd been busted. He just hurried to pull the shirt down, glad he had his back to whoever it was because they couldn't see his wince.

Who was he trying to kid? It certainly wasn't himself because he knew just from the… presence behind him that it was one Dr Leonard H McCoy, PhD, MD and all round asshole that had just fucking up and left him and then dared send him a comm looking like shit, strung out and tired to guilt him into taking care of himself. But Jim was tired - probably not as tired as Bones himself was - and he just wanted to go back to the Enterprise and sleep off getting smacked in the face with a bottle and to just be done here already so they could go off, continue with what they were meant to be doing and so he could go back to pretending that he didn't care.

He was fully dressed, the bruises hidden beneath fabric and his hair was mussed and blood-encrusted but the smile on his face was sunny as the days were long up in space and he turned on his heel, subtly pressing his hip against the bio bed for support as he looked at Bones, ignoring the way his whole body cried out to touch him and just double check that it really was him. He resisted the urge to throw himself at the other man, to hug him and then punch him for being so fucking selfish as to leave and then to tell Bones to stay the _hell_ away from him because Jim wasn’t putting himself through that again. He didn’t believe in love for a reason; it sucked you in with promise, then chewed you up and spat you out and that’s exactly what had happened to him, exactly what Bones had done to him and he- he couldn’t do that again. Not whilst he wasn’t even healed from this brush with the emotion. But all that simmered behind blue eyes and that smile, that one that Jim used when he was about to make a quick exit.

“Bones,” he greeted nonchalantly, smoothing down his shirt. “M’Benga gave me the all clear, so I’ll just be getting out of your hair.”

"Don't bullshit me, Jim. I know for damn certain that you didn't even get a proper check up so get your ass back up onto that bed 'fore I put you there myself." Bones looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes indicating how the trauma of the last few days was sitting heavy on his mind and Jim pressed his lips together, torn between arguing and conceding just to be nice to someone who was grieving and suffering.

“Promises promises,” he shot at Bones, going for a leer to try and throw the man off considering how tired he was, hoping that he’d at least get a reprieve because right now he wasn’t sure he could handle having Bones’ hands on him. He just- 

He swallowed, hesitated for a moment before he awkwardly heaved himself back onto the bed, sitting there with his legs swinging back and forth like an impatient child. “Look, Bones- uh- I’m guessing it’s Doctor McCoy now, huh- I’m just- I’m alright. You should see the other guy.” The other guy was in the brig, someone would probably have to go see him, check him out. He looked at Bones through his eyelashes. “C’mon, I’m okay. Barely got me with that bottle. I think the Andorian whiskey probably cleaned every cut on my face I’m gonna have for the next month. Bartender was kinda pissed, though. ‘Pparently Andorian alcohol’s real expensive.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Wasn’t my fault that’s the bottle that asshole Schafer grabbed.”

"Shafer, huh?" Bones asked as he fired up the dermal and took a hold of Jim's chin in his calloused grip, touch gentle but firm. "About time somebody put that ass in his place." His hazel eyes fixated on the cut, and Jim’s eyes fixed on the side of Bones’ face, feeling himself squirming under the contact and scrutiny because really. He just- He just wanted to go back to the Enterprise. 

“I’ve revoked his command. I just gotta call it in. Starfleet’ll send someone else to replace him. They always do.” He wanted to pull away but didn’t dare. He could barely breathe with Bones’ hand on him. He closed his eyes, deciding that was better than looking at the sharp angle of Bones’ face, the lines that seemed more ingrained, the shadows more pronounced, the cheeks more hollow. “You’ve lost weight, you know.”

It wasn’t like he could talk, having been running himself into the ground, but that wasn’t the point. That had nothing to do with Bones leaving him, that was just the result of being the Captain of the Federation’s flagship. But he felt so tired sometimes, and he missed being able to unwind with someone who had never expected anything from him, with the one person who he had trusted more than anything never to walk away from him and then- And then that person had left him and all that forwards progress Jim had made suddenly went skittering backwards and fuck. 

“Thought you were meant to be a doctor. You’re not looking after yourself very well.”

"I've been busy," Bones offered and Jim recognised that off-handed tone that was pretty much straight up bullshit. He ignored how much that hurt. He wasn’t going to be hurt anymore. Not by Bones. He’d made that decision already. "Only trauma surgeon this space station has and I was up three days straight before Adelaide marched me to my quarters and hypo'ed me to sleep." Jim resisted the urge to snort at the thought of Adelaide man-handling anyone. He supposed she was more than capable, and he was quite glad he’d never needed to be on the other side of Adelaide’s wrath or single-minded concern. He knew that girl’s focus could beat Bones’, or at least rival it. 

He tilted his head obediently as the cut on his eyebrow was cleaned, the dermal run over his skin and he closed his eyes again, because he didn’t want to look at Bones. He didn’t want to look at him and feel that urge to touch so his fingers flexed against the edge of the bed, legs still swinging, refusing to part to let Bones closer, even if that position, standing between Jim’s thighs, would have been an easier position to clean and check the wounds on his head.

He shivered when there was a thumb that smoothed over the recently repaired skin above his eyebrow. He wasn’t thinking about that. Nope.

"And you ain't one to talk, Jim. I can count the exact amount of weight you've dropped not to mention tell you the amount of hours of sleep you haven't had." 

“I’ve been busy, only Captain on my ship and all,” Jim said with a shrug of his shoulders as Bones took hold of his hand, examining his fingers. “Working hard to make sure she stays hanging in the black. Not like I’ve got much incentive to wind down now anyway.” 

Aw crap. He hadn’t meant to say that. His whole body went rigid at the thought af the fact that his mouth had just spilled out a borderline passive aggressive dig at the fact that Bones had left him, which he hadn’t been intending on doing. He pressed his lips together. 

“Lots of paperwork,” he added trying to cover up the fact that he’d just given something away, but there was tension in his body that hadn’t been there before, that he wasn’t used to having to hide well because no one else on the Enterprise knew him like Bones did.

"Nothin' broken." It was gruff, and Jim was watching the replay of emotions across Bones’ face, the flare of his nostrils indicating that he’d not only picked up on Jim’s unintentional dig, but had been affected by it. Bothered by it. Which was stupid and ridiculous because why the hell would Bones care about Jim’s digs because he was the one that left with a bullshit reason that wasn’t even real. That was clearly not true because he knew for a fact that most of the command crew - if not all of them - was still in contact with him. 

Again, he just sat still as Bones cleaned off the dried blood, repairing the broken skin. "A Captain's work is never done," he murmured with a shrug and Jim watched the ticking muscle in his jaw for a few long moments before he, too, shrugged.

“I guess so. I feel like I’ve forgotten what downtime is,” Jim shared, legs swinging back and forth, newly freed hands returning to flexing around the bio bed, just waiting for the opportunity to get away and go back to his ship. Wait it all out until he could leave. “Looks like you have too. Woulda figured you’d love being here, surrounded by people who love science and shit and would keep your brain all busy. How come you left the research ship? What happened, did Starfleet run out of projects to give you?” 

He didn’t care. Not really. He really didn’t care. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to leave. His eyes cut away from Bones to look over at the door, chewing on the inside of his lip. He felt like he was buzzing with nervous energy, even if he’d just been in a fight. 

"I got bored, figured that my skills could be better used elsewhere such as here. Good thing too considering what happened." God, this was awkward. He’d never thought it would be awkward with Bones, but then he’d never pegged that the guy would just leave him either, that he would just walk away without an explanation or an apology.

Jim wished he hadn’t imagined what seemed to be a flash of hurt at his desperation to go away, and he was doing his best not to flinch at the suggestion that he’d have to strip off. At this point in time, he’d rather have another doctor look at him, hell even a nurse, he didn’t need some special treatment just because he’d fallen in love with his (former) CMO and that his (former) CMO was the only person in the whole damn galaxy who he would trust with his life and maybe that was the problem. 

"Won't be much longer, Jim." He watched as Bones cleared his throat and gestured. "Just gotta take a look at your ribs, make sure they're not broke and then you've got the all clear."

“I don’t wanna,” Jim said petulantly. “I don’t have time for an osteo to be used on them, so even if they’re broken I just gotta wait for them to heal, right?” He tilted his head, shot for a smile but it was hollow, devoid of the previous emotions because Jim was tired and hurting and he hoped that Bones couldn’t see any evidence of his internal struggle. 

A part of him wanted to beg Bones to come back to the Enterprise. A large part of him wanted to beg Bones to come back, pull him into his arms and kiss the shit out of him until they weren’t sure who began where. 

“Can’t- can’t we just… pretend they’re okay and then I can leave?”

"'Fraid I can't do that as a Doctor," Bones said with a shake of his head. "If you want I'll get somebody else to take a look, would that help any?" Jim watched as the hypospray was loaded and held in Bones’ hands like some kind of deadly weapon. "This ought to help with the pain." Bones injected the hypo into Jim's neck then rubbed the area before discarding the hypo and Jim flinched because he hated those things, they always hurt. Always. 

He watched as Bones scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "I'll get M'Benga to finish this up."

Bones had never just quit out when Jim was being difficult, he always argued and fought and forced Jim to stay still with a well placed look or a hand or a touch. But there was none of that. This time, Bones just folded and it felt like another rejection to Jim, just another thing that Bones couldn’t be bothered to fight for considering he’d just left him behind and that was it. He’d just gone off and found something better and more- More better. Better than Jim, just like he’d always been afraid would happen. 

“Yeah, sure,” Jim said sharply, waiting for Bones to take a step backwards. “Because it’s that easy for you, huh. To just walk away again, leave me in the hands of someone else.” As soon as he had a bit of space back, Jim was on his feet. Anger and hurt were warring for dominance in his eyes, along with a burning disappointment in himself for the words that were falling out of his mouth. “You’re- Yeah, get another doctor to look at me. I’d almost forgotten that you’d quit being mine.”

Well, being an asshole did come naturally to him. And before Bones (and it was horrible that he categorised his life now as ‘Before Bones’, ‘With Bones’ and ‘After Bones’) he’d done nothing but be an asshole to people to keep them at bay. To stop them from getting too close to be able to hurt him. This was why he never fell in love, this is why he didn’t- why he’d worked so hard to not love Bones but he hadn’t been able to help himself, it was so natural and he just- God, he wanted. He wanted Bones so badly and he just- Fuck.

"Easy?" Bones countered with a disbelieving laugh. "You think what I did was easy? Oh hell, kid. You have no idea, you really don't." And this was what he’d been hoping for, Jim had seen the simmering temper bubbling under the surface; he’d been unable to help himself from pushing those buttons, besides, it would be nice to know that there were other emotions other than sarcasm and injury-related anger in the good doctor. 

He watched Bones shake his head, the tension in his jaw. Fuck, this shouldn’t be hot. “You don't get to stand there and judge me not when you don't know the half of it, James." Not Jim, James. Jim felt his stomach clench at the use of his full name. Bones had never called him that. Ever. Not when they first met, he’d always been Jim, or Jimmy (or one one notable occasion involving a lot of G’Haran Ale, Jimbo). "And before you throw the fact I never explained my reasons in my face then yes I admit that I walked away without telling you why, but you should know me well enough to know I don't make any decisions lightly and I sure as shit didn't take walking away from you, the Enterprise and the crew lightly no matter what you may think about me." 

“Except you didn’t walk away from the crew, did you,” Jim accused easily, fingers flexing at his sides because fuck if he didn’t want to punch something - preferably Bones in his stupid mouth - because Jim didn’t deal with emotions in the healthiest of ways and fuck if he didn’t want the whole world to know just what a backstabbing bastard he wanted to believe his former CMO was. “Because I know you’ve been in touch with them. Whether they commed you or you commed them first I don’t give a shit, but you told me that it was for the good of everyone that you left, that’s quite clearly not fucking true since you still speak to them. But me? You walked away from the Enterprise and _me_ , Doctor McCoy.” 

If Bones was using full names, then Jim would go one further and go to titles. Childish? Yes. Spiteful? Definitely. And he stuck with the decision, even if said title felt wrong on his lips.

“You walked away from me. When you fucking promised me that was something you would never do. And-“ he let out a slightly hysterical laugh at his own stupidity, “-somewhere along the line I started believing you. That you wouldn’t leave me. That you wouldn’t be like everyone else. Stupid, huh.” 

He felt his jaw tick and his ribs ached with the deep breaths that he was forcing himself to take. He wet his lower lip, feeling a burning in the back of his throat and his eyes, feeling every bit the younger man, that stupid, too damaged kid who didn’t know how to handle emotions, at that moment in time, dashing his hand across his eyes. Just in case. 

“Shoulda known better than that,” he said, shaking his head, “But I’m not giving you the chance to walk away from me again.”

He pressed his lips together, turning on his heel and walking through the privacy screen, making a beeline for the door, snarling at some poor nurse who was in his way to get the hell out of it before he laid the guy out.

He got about three quarters of the way down the connecting corridor before Jim realised that if he was going to storm out correctly, he should have made a bigger exit. He wet his lower lip, standing in the hallway and just listening to the sounds of the station around him before he turned on his heel. The painkiller he’d been given was good, but not good enough because he was allergic to the stronger stuff and fuck if he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die, discover time travel and tell his younger self to stay in the chevvy, drive off the cliff. Maybe things would have been better that way. 

He marched back into the sickbay, people moved out of his way like he was a rampaging bull and he marched straight back up to the bed he’d been in before. There was a metal bin rolling around on the floor, the momentum indicating it had been kicked with some force from behind the screen.

Good. Bones was still in there.

Slipping through the screen to see the man in front of him, Jim felt his anger ease for all of a couple of seconds. Bones looked so hurt and frail and just- Jim wanted to crawl inside him and kiss all those hurts away until maybe things were okay. But he couldn’t do that because Bones didn’t want him, and Bones had left him. And maybe it was vindictive because Bones looked like a stiff breeze would reduce him to a wreck, but the sickbay wasn’t that full and it was only the Enterprise crew in there anyway who had seen the guy in bits before so when he said “computer, disengage privacy screen” he didn’t feel too guilty about it.

What happened next, Jim could only have blamed on anger induced madness as he surged forward, yanking Bones’ hand away from his face, pulling him into a kiss that was a little too hard - it re-split his lip, after all - a little too much teeth but it was a firm press of lips against lips, a hand buried in Bones’ hair, deep in the slightly too-long strands, crowding the older and taller man against the bio bed. 

It was too much and not enough all in one go and Jim leaned back before the kiss could be reciprocated, before Bones could touch him or say anything or shove him away. He just gave Bones one last defiant look before he turned and walked out again. 

And this time he wasn’t going back.


	30. Stardate 2260.20

_Stardate 2260.20 - Three Hundred and Twenty Five Days After Bones_

After the incident in the infirmary - which is what he was calling it in his head, not ‘the kiss’ and certainly not ‘that thing where I made an ass out of myself and kissed Bones in front of a lot of people and now all I want to is go back and kiss him again in front of a lot of people but then drag him into a closet’ - Jim had retreated to the Enterprise with a bottle of Scotty’s ‘still whiskey and he’d sulked in his quarters for at least four hours, ran several laps of the ship (which was satisfyingly painful considering he still had broken ribs) and filed a report on Schafer for the Admiralty and sent it off flagged as Priority One. He’d also been in touch with the nearest Starship, the USS-Locke, and was told they’d be there to take over supervising the repairs by 2260.22. Which meant only two more days, and those Jim knew he could spend somewhere that wasn’t the infirmary. That wouldn’t be too hard. He’d get on with the repairs and just- just help out until the Locke arrived and then he’d take his crew - minus one former CMO - and leave. 

He wanted to crawl up into himself in mortification because whilst, yes, he hadn’t really given Bones that much of a chance to react, at the same time, Bones could have reached out for him, could have followed him, could have- well could have done _something_ , but no, Jim was left just… feeling like an idiot. At least now he knew how Bones felt, that whatever Jim felt was one sided. And that was okay. Jim wasn’t the kind of person that people loved anyway. He was good for a bit of fun, but wasn’t the sort you committed to. He was damaged goods. He wasn’t the kind of person that you kept forever. He supposed he was probably too much of a wanderer anyway, too free spirited or some bullshit like that. Commitment scared him, because he didn’t think he was worth it - and no one had ever even tried to prove him wrong - and he let enough people down on a daily basis without adding to that a lover.

He glanced at the terminal on his computer frowning when he saw another message flashing at him that wasn’t the blanket, auto-accept from Starfleet advising his message to the Admiralty had been received.

He reached out and saw that the message was dated for his birthday, January 4th. Not that people counted by the old Julian calendar anymore, but Jim’s fascination with all things old meant that he knew the months of the year as they used to be. He used to keep himself entertained in class at school by trying to work out which month they were in because God only knew the classes weren’t stimulating enough for him. Tapping the play button, he instantly regretted it because Bones’ face filled up the screen, the holo-camera obviously buzzing around him as he recorded a video message, a birthday message for him.

And even though it had been less than a day since he’d last seen Bones, he just- he felt that sharp ache again at the sight of the guy’s face on a holovid. God, he was pathetic. 

_”Happy birthday, Jim. I hope it's a good-“_ Jim watched as Bones looked frustrated with himself, rolling his eyes, obviously debating something in that big old brain of his. _”Hell who am I tryin' to kid? I did what I did 'cause at the time I was utterly convinced it was the right thing to do, but now? Well, now, I ain't so sure.”_ Bones shook his head and folded his arms, reaching up to scrub his fingers through his hair. Jim wanted to do the same, reach out and push his fingers through those messy locks, pull him close and kiss him again, maybe- Maybe even pause to let Bones kiss him back or maybe just wait for the rejection he was expecting, that he knew would follow. _”I miss you, kid, an' you sure as shit best be lookin' out for yourself or come Hell or high water I will march my sorry ass back onto that ship and kick yours three ways from Sunday.”_

He watched as Bones paused, a ticking in his jaw as he sorted through his own thoughts, clearly fighting to keep whatever wanted to escape from doing so. “You know, that’s not much of an incentive for me to look after myself,” he told the screen, knowing there wouldn’t be a comeback, feeling the need to fill the silence that had risen in the room in the wake of Bones’ internal dilemma.

He watched as Bones leaned forward to help himself to a glass of Bourbon before he held it up to the camera. _”Here's to you, Jim. I fucking hate you for making me care so goddamn much about you.”_ And with that he tossed the drink back and fired off a salute. _”But you seem to have that effect on people so remember that the next time you think about running into a warp core.”_

Jim’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch at the break in Bones’ voice when he referenced the incident that had killed him. The events haunted him too, but probably in a different way; Jim thought about what would have happened if he hadn’t saved them, hadn’t managed to kick the warp core into submission, kick it into place. If he hadn’t succeeded and the ship burned up on re-entry, people died screaming and burning and Bones- And- And everyone was lost, all of his friends and his crew - his family. He’d do it again if he had to, he’d die painfully over and over and over again if it meant saving his crew.

He met the level look from Bones, even though it was only a recording Jim felt the intensity in it, felt it right through to his bones. And shit. Just- shit.

_”No more dying on m- us, Jim.”_

He replayed the second half of the video again, swallowing past his own emotions as Bones swore him out for ‘making him care’. That had never been his intention, he just wanted friends, he’d just wanted to be important to people. Hell, he just wanted Bones to be proud of him and to want to be with him until they both grew old and somewhere along the line, Bones had made him fall in love with _him_ , so what the hell was he doing cussing Jim out for something he was equally guilty - if not more so - of doing?!

A flick of his eyes at the chronometer told him that it was after midnight. January 20th. Bones’ birthday. Thirty three. And, just like on his own birthday, they were spending it apart. At least, on this birthday, Bones didn’t have anything like the audio recording of his parents’ last conversation to torture himself with. 

Filled with something akin to righteous indignation, Jim ordered the computer to begin recording as he got to his feet and paced back and forth, gesticulating has he spoke. Whilst he was angry, it was clear he was hurting and not thinking about what he was saying, words tumbling out of his mouth

“You know, Bones, that birthday message was kind of a dick thing to do. Fuck me for making you care? Fuck _me_ for making _you_ care? No, Bones, you got that the wrong way round. Fuck you. Fuck you very much because it took me months to be able to work out how to fucking function without you around. At one point, they were talking about making me step down for a while, I was that screwed over by you leaving and you have the nerve to tell me that- fuck me for making you care?

“You know, I get that I’m a fuck up. I get that. I’m the screw up that’s not really worth anyone’s time but dammit, Bones, if I- I tried, okay? I really tried and I know that’s not good enough for you or whatever but somewhere along the line I fell for your stupid ass and I hate it. I hate that because it makes me weak and makes me do stupid things like kiss you in the infirmary out of anger and I don’t know how to do this.

“Maybe that’s why you left. I’ve probably been going about this all wrong and shit, if I’d just wanted to have sex with you, I woulda done that soon as we got off that shuttle in San Francisco. Wouldn’t have made- I just- I-“

He cut himself off, sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling the burn in the back of his throat, the sting in his eyes and he put his head in his hands. His shoulders were tense, but there was a faint shake, the emotions swirling inside the younger man overwhelming at the best of times. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You had your reasons for leaving and as your best friend I should have supported your decision to do so. I just- You promised me you’d never leave and you did and I just-” He glanced up, the camera zooming in on his face, those teary eyes for a moment before panning out again. “I just miss you. I miss you and I wish you were here even though I’m still so mad at you I want to kick your ass _seven_ ways from Sunday.” Hah. Seven. Not three. He won. 

There was another pause, Jim wet his lower lip nervously. “I need you here. That’s the truth of it, Bones. I need you. And it’s killing me that you’re not here.” 

His lower lip trembled before he caught himself, taking a breath and forcing himself to talk through the way that his voice was shaking, had been shaking since his semi-apology for shouting. 

“Happy birthday, Bones.” He lifted his hand, splitting his fingers in that way Spock did. “Live long and prosper and all that shit. But make sure you hire more medical staff, okay? At least another surgeon. Because you’re not Superman, you know.” He knew well enough Bones wouldn’t have a damn clue who Superman was, but he figured the name alone was description enough. “I mean, you’re amazing, best doctor in the ‘fleet but you’re only human. Don’t beat yourself up over the ones you couldn’t save.” He glanced up again. “Try and remember the ones you did instead. They sure as hell remember you.”

He ended the recording there and pressed his fist against his mouth, ignoring the way it suddenly felt really difficult to swallow past his own emotions, the rushing pain he felt at the fact that he was facing the very real possibility of spending the rest of his time in space alone without Bones. And that hurt.

He crossed over to the terminal and meant to press the replay button, to critically examine himself falling apart at the seams, but for some reason, whilst his brain said ‘press replay’ and his finger touched ‘send all messages’ and before he knew it, two messages had been shot off to Bones on the Elysium. And what kind of stupid option was that, to send all messages to a recipient?

“Fuck. Computer, recall message,” Jim snapped but the computer just bleeped at him.

“Message recall failed.”

“Then give me access to Elysium central message banks!” 

“Access denied. Damage to the Elysium has prevented remote access to all internal systems. All systems access must be granted from individual terminals.”

Jim blew out a disbelieving breath. “So you’re saying I need to sneak into Bones’ quarters in order to stop him seeing that message?”

“Affirmative.”

Jim groaned and flopped forward, forehead connecting with his desk with a dull thud. Well, that wasn’t happening. He hoped - he supposed it was too much to wish for really - that Bones was on shift and would be both too busy and too tired to check his messages.


	31. Stardate 2260.22

_Stardate 2260.22 - Three Hundred and Twenty Seven Days After Bones_

“Captain’s log, supplemental. It’s been two days since Bones’ birthday and we’ve left the Elysium - and him - behind in the capable hands of the USS-Locke. I’ve submitted my testimony to the Federation Review board about the conduct of the Elysium’s former captain. I hope they listen, I mean, they should revoke his command because the guy’s a jackass.

“I’ve been meaning to look through the crew roster properly. I think we picked up a couple of people who wanted a lift home. I think Spock authorised a few of the transfers. We’re Terra’s most expensive cab. Heh. 

“Sometimes the Captain thing sucks. Between requisitions and updating the crew roster wi-

“-the fuck is he doing on my ship? What the hell is- Traitorous son of a-Computer, pause recording.”

On the PADD, under ‘new transfers’, there was one name that caught Jim’s attention and his heart felt ragged and like it was pulsating his chest, bleeding everywhere because fuck- fuck it and just- He got to his feet, leaving the PADD on the table in his ready room.

The screen blinked softly, underlining the personnel file of _Dr Leonard H. McCoy_


	32. Stardate 2260.24

_Stardate 2260.24 - ~~Three Hundred and Twenty Nine Days After Bones~~ Two days since Bones came back_

Jim felt like his mood was turning rapidly southwards since the moment he’d gotten out of bed. He’d hit his head on the sink in his bathroom when he was staggering to his feet after his most recent round of  
‘take-the-medication-that-keeps-you-alive-but-makes-you-wish-you-were-still-dead-because-of-the-side-effects’ which was quietly clearly his favourite time of the damn day which had given him a not insignificant headache alongside the one that he got anyway from taking the damn pills and managed to procure a hypospray which helped ease the pain of his head without having to set foot in Sickbay.

He was never setting foot in there again if he could help it. Because Bones was in there and Jim didn’t think he could look the guy in the eye. He knew he’d sent the birthday message (which was a dick enough move in and of itself) but then he’d ended up sending some other message which was like, a hundred and twenty nine days old from that night he’d got completely drunk and he didn’t even remember what he’d ranted at the camera and there was a reason he hadn’t sent the damn message but there you have it, because the universe really enjoyed crapping on Jim Kirk. 

To add to the humiliation of the whole situation, Jim found himself feeling the absence of Bones’ presence on the bridge more than ever now that he knew the guy was on the ship. And he didn’t care that Bones didn’t come up to the bridge, he didn’t. He really didn’t. And even if Bones did come up to the bridge, Jim knew he wouldn’t look at him only because he felt mortified by the fact that he’d kissed the man and then stormed out (which he still felt justified in doing, by the way, because now he never could ask himself ‘what if’ because he’d kissed Bones - only he knew that was _’utter horseshit, kid, you ain’t foolin’ anyone’_ ).

Aw great. Now his internal monologue was turning into a grumpy southern doctor. Even his brain hated him.

He walked around like a bear with a sore head that day, he’d snapped at Uhura when she’d reminded him none too subtly that the Commander was still banned from the bridge after Jim’s hissy-fit at finding out that he’d approved Bones’ transfer from the Elysium to the Enterprise. He’d shouted in the face of Spock’s calm logic and demanded that he get hell off the bridge and not come back. That was how he found himself outside Spock’s quarters, feeling abashed and somewhat ashamed of his childish reaction and when the door opened and Spock didn’t even look surprised to see him, Jim ground his teeth together.

“You could at least look like it’s an unexpected move for me to come here,” he grumbled as he moved into the quarters Spock shared with Uhura. The whole place looked so cozy, it made Jim feel envious, jealousy crawling up the back of his throat. He’d wanted this, he’d nearly had it with Bones even though they were never a couple and that- God, he knew going back to his own quarters after this would just echo his own loneliness and stupidity back at him. 

“Why would I do that when I have been expecting you?” Spock asked, tone infuriatingly calm and level and even and Jim just flexed his fingers, folding his arms petulantly. “You can, at times, be rather predictable, Captain.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.”

“Look. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for shouting at you.” Jim groused, not looking at the Vulcan who, he knew, was standing there with his hands clasped loosely behind his back and head tilted, eyes scrutinising every little move Jim was making. It made him uncomfortable. Spock seemed to realise this and looked away, to let Jim speak. “I just- I was surprised that you’d approved the request, you should run stuff past me first, you know. That kind of thing’s a big deal, you know, taking the surgeon from another ship for ourselves. Besides, he left, how do you know he wanted to come back?”

“I suspect the doctor would not have accepted my request if he did not harbour a desire to return,” Spock pointed out. “And I acted in the best interests of the ship and her crew, Jim. And in those of her Captain.”

Jim’s eyebrow lifted and blue eyes cut to look at the Vulcan, not saying anything but he did fold his arms, fingers digging into his biceps. 

Spock seemed to take that as an indication to carry on talking.

“Whilst I am still determining the merits of human emotions, I am not so blind as to not see that you have been missing the presence of Dr McCoy more keenly than the rest of the crew. Many have missed his presence in the same way one would a friend who has moved away, but you have been grieving his loss like a lover.”

“Spock, that’s not-“

“I am not finished, Captain.”

“Jim.”

“Jim.” Spock drew in a breath, Jim felt his stomach churning and twisting and flopping over on itself. “I am confident that you and he will work out your differences over the reasoning behind his decision to leave. I respect the choice that he made but understand that the more difficult decision was to return. A decision, I might add, that he made willingly. This decision has meant a great deal of change for Doctor McCoy once again as he does not even have the luxury of his old quarters and must accommodate to a smaller, less hospitable environment than he is used to.”

“Well that’s not _my_ fault, Spock,” Jim felt, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself as the Vulcan seemed determined to make Bones out to be some self-sacrificing hero instead of the selfish son of a bitch that he was. “He was the one that chose to leave us here. Abandon us when we need him here an-“

“ _Jim_. I am not saying his original decision was wise, nor am I saying that it is a decision I agree with, however the decision was his and his alone to make and we must respect that. But in the interest of the crew and ensuring that you receive adequate medical care I decided discretion was the better part of valour and arranged for the request to be put through when I was in charge of the bridge.”

“See, that’s what happens when I leave you in charge, you do things like this,” Jim grumbled though it was half-hearted. “Just because you get to sit in my chair when I’m not here doesn’t make you Captain, Pointy.”

“Derogatory comments suggest you find my reasoning sound, Jim. It was only logical especially as Dr McCoy is the only doctor you actually allow to act as your attending physician, and he is also down on your medical file as your next of kin. It was most appropriate to have him here where he could administer the kind of care that he is extremely good at. Namely, keeping you alive.”

There was the tiniest twitches at the corner of Spock’s mouth and Jim latched onto that like a drowning man would a lifeline.

“Spock, you just kind of made a funny,” he said with a blossoming smile that became a grin.

“I do not know to what you refer, Captain,” Spock said, but it was clear he knew what he’d done and in some way was almost proud of the smile he’d elicited from the Captain.

“Look. I’m sorry, okay? Come back to the bridge, you’re un-banned.” 

Spock looked like he wanted to roll his eyes as Jim moved forward, gripped his upper arm in a manly, friendly fashion and then rocked back on his heels.

“See you there in ten minutes? I’m starving and I nearly punched Yeoman Hawke when he came up last time because he startled me. You want anything from the mess?”

“No, Captain-" 

" _Jim_."

"-Jim -I do not require sust-“ he cut himself off at the arched eyebrow from Jim, “-anything to eat.”

“I’m glad we had this talk, Spock,” Jim offered with a grin as he turned on his heel and left Spock’s quarters, feeling better than he had in a couple of days, even though he had two more doses of those vile drugs to take before the day was out. 

He’d be okay. And eventually, he’d talk to Bones again. He just needed to remember how to pack up his heart and his hurts and bundle them in his chest and hide them from the world, including Bones, which he’d never had to do before. And that? Well, that was going to be difficult, but he was James T Kirk. He could do anything.

Hah. Yeah right.

But he’d sure as hell try.


	33. Stardate 2260.27

_Stardate 2260.27 - Five days since Bones came back_

It was harder than he’d thought, avoiding sickbay. He ended up walking down there almost on autopilot, which wasn’t something that he’d wanted to be doing. That was dangerous. It lead to near collisions with the doctor and having to explain awkwardly why his chief of security had to just _shut the damn door_ and not say anything about where he was. He was reduced to hiding on his ship like a child, all because he didn’t want to look Bones in the eye.

One day he would.

Today was clearly not that day. Nor was yesterday. And, if he was honest, tomorrow wasn’t looking too good either.

When he thought the coast was clear, he nonchalantly walked out of the room he’d taken refuge in, scrubbed a hand through his hair and headed back to the bridge. He was due on shift in about twenty minutes.


	34. Stardate 2260.30

_Stardate 2260.30 - Eight days since Bones came back_

Jim was sitting in his room at the table, reading through the latest requisition reports. He hated these things, they were so boring, but after having been told (kindly but forcefully) by the crew of Beta shift that since he finished work three hours ago, his presence on the bridge was annoying and unwelcome and whilst he’d protested that it was _his_ bridge and he could be where he wanted to be, they’d threatened to call medical and have someone march him to his room to get some sleep if he didn’t leave.

With a huff that they were all traitors, Jim retreated, did a couple of laps around the widest part of the saucer and then retreated to his room to do more Captain-y things that he didn’t get a lot of time to do normally. 

But requisition reports were boring, God, they were so boring. And Jim felt like just falling asleep on them and making sure that he drooled on the PADD like that would viciously make them shrink away from him and be dealt with by someone else. Which wouldn’t happen; he’d tried a couple of months ago in a fit of not-at-all-Bones-related frustration. 

He wet his lower lip, thumbed through another couple of requests; Scotty was looking for parts to upgrade the nacelles as soon as they stopped for long enough to turn them off, and he wanted some extra ‘bit and bobs’, the request said, just in case of attack and damage. Jim pressed his lips together and replied with a curt _Scotty, I need specifics. I can’t ask Starfleet Command for 'bits and bobs' to satisfy your paranoia._

Being a Captain wasn’t the best of jobs, to be honest, not all the time. He loved the exciting bits, when he had an outlet for his energies but the paperwork? God. He pushed his glasses up his nose. He’d picked them up about three months ago but had been so resistant to wearing them because he didn’t like the way that they sat on his face, simple black frames with prescription lenses. He’d needed them for years, but got around by squinting and wearing the contact lenses that he was allergic to, of course, for the shortest possible time when necessary. 

He pushed his fingers underneath the frames to rub at his eyes, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion overcome him and he had half a mind to get to his feet and go get a cup of coffee from the food processor that was embedded into the wall of his quarters but he needed to take his pill in a couple of minutes so it was ultimately quite pointless because he’d just be throwing it up again and that was never a pleasant experience for anyone. And coffee really didn’t taste great coming back up again.

One hand scrubbing through his hair, Jim crossed over to the table beside his bed, opening the drawer and closing his fingers around the pill dispenser, rolling it between his fingers as he grabbed a water from the processor, wishing it was coffee, that he hadn’t died because things probably wouldn’t be so screwed up, wishing that he wasn’t so lucky as to keep cheating death. All that happened was Death came to take other people in his stead. Jim wondered what would happen the day he became okay with that.

So with glasses on his face and sweatpants sitting low on his hips, Jim returned to his desk to watch the clock tick down the five minutes that remained before he had to neck the green and yellow pill and be out of action for a couple more hours. At least he wasn’t on shift until 1800 tomorrow. Something about having worked the weirdest shifts meant scheduling had forced him to have a bit of extra time. Spock had probably been talking to them again. Pointy eared traitor.

He glanced up, feeling faintly irritated at the chime of his door. “Enter,” he called, the computer disengaging the lock on his door with a whooshing sound and he quickly grabbed a shirt, yanking it on over his head. Who would be coming to visit him now, considering the whole ship knew what time it was?

"We need to talk," Bones muttered roughly, and of course it would be Bones standing in his room, still in his uniform and just on this edge of tired. "Or rather I need to talk and you need to listen."

He hurried to pull the last of his shirt down, fiddling with the hem, his hair more dishevelled than before, glasses sitting a little skewed on his face and he reached out to adjust how they were sitting, feeling oddly vulnerable with them on.

Jim swallowed, ignoring how he felt defensive immediately with the semi-aggressive, yet somehow tired and resigned statement from Bones. And the assumption that Jim would just sit there and listen. But he had to take his stupid pill soon and he didn’t want to have to deal with taking his pill and the stupid-ass side effects after having had an argument with Bones. 

So he wet his lower lip, waved a hand demonstratively for Bones to come into the room further and bit back on any kind of comment about how maybe Bones should go back to his quarters and sleep for a bit because he looked tired and whilst there had been no incidents or anything, Jim was pretty positive that Bones had spent all day aggressively reorganising his stock room and files after M’Benga had his hands in them for several months and screwed up Bones’ system. 

“Fine,” he started, pushing his glasses up his nose. “So talk.” It wasn’t abrupt or curt, but rather straight to the point. He didn’t have a lot of time, after all, and Bones was right there, if the alarm went off and he didn’t take the pill, he’d probably find himself straddled as Bones forced it down his throat, hands on his jaw and- _Fuck_ , not now, he told his mind, a slight flush on his cheeks as his thoughts spiralled downwards rapidly before he caught them. “I’m listening.” But God, he was apprehensive.

"I owe you an explanation," Bones started, and it took a lot of self control for Jim not to agree, loudly, to stop this conversation before it started because he didn’t- he couldn’t handle this right now. "A real actual one about why I left." He turned his head to look at Jim then looked away and the younger man watched his jaw ticking. He wanted to cross the distance between them and kiss the skin above that twitching muscle, ease the tension with a brush of his thumb and wow, his thoughts were completely inappropriate. It was true, a lack of sex could drive you insane. "I left 'cause I was as the Vulcans would say, emotionally compromised. I was... too attached, cared too goddamn much an' I was worried that one of these days when you went and did some fool thing I'd not be able to do my job 'cause I was too fixated on the fact you were hurt or dying." _Again_ Bones didn’t say it. Jim heard it loud and clear it threatened to steal the air out of the room, the sharp reminder of how afraid he’d been at that point when he was dying, when all he’d wanted was to just not be afraid, to not be scared anymore, to have the pain stop and for it all to be over because he was dying alone as he always knew he would. He remembered how much he wanted to have Bones beside him at that point, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t have called for Bones.

Couldn’t have sacrificed Bones for his own selfish death wish. 

"I was always taught that a Doctor keeps this distance, Jim. It helps you separate what you need to do as a medic and what you desperately want to be able to do as a human being. I lost that distance somewhere along the line probably round the same time you slipped under the radar and wormed your way into my heart." 

Jim watched as Bones folded one arm across his chest and then took to pinching his nose. Those hands, Jim swallowed again, fingers flexing on the table, eyes darting away to look at the chronometer. 

"I didn't want to let my feelings affect the way I did my job, Jim. Couldn't let that happen, crew like this and a Captain like you deserve better from their CMO." Pacing. Great. Eyes tracked Bones’ back and forth movements, wanting to reach out and just grab the man by the hips, stop him walking. Stop the damn pacing because it wasn’t helping. "You died on me, Jim." And his voice broke and Bones pressed his teeth together and Jim felt his heart stutter in his chest in a way that had nothing to do with his irregular heartbeat. “That changed everything. Not just for me, but for everybody on this ship. I never thought-" He finally looked up and looked Jim straight in the eye. Jim felt like all the air in the room had been vacated, eyes big and blue as he just _listened_. "Every day I was livin' with the fear that I'd see you in another body bag, being carried into my Sickbay, everybody's eyes on me waiting and expectin' me to make the call nobody else could or wanted to. I couldn't be a good Doctor, to you or anybody else. 'cause I was too busy worrying 'bout you dying. How was I supposed to be a good CMO if that was all I could think about?"

“But that’s why you’re my CMO,” Jim said finally, soft and earnest, after having taken a moment or so to collect himself, ignoring how his voice was shaking like Bones’ was, how he was thinking about dying alone and losing Bones and the crew and how he’d die over and over again, a hundred painful, lonely deaths for the lives of his crew, for Bones, to stop Bones from dying. He swallowed, forcing his emotions to the side. “You care. And that’s important. You care enough to know everything about everyone by rote. Because that means you’ll not stop until you’ve fixed us, patched us up. Hell, you stop us getting into these situations where we might otherwise-“ He paused, pushing his hand through his hair and then squeezing the back of his neck. 

He shook his head a little, restless energy and apprehension mingling in his chest. He couldn’t focus on Bones being worried about him dying, he was the Captain, it was bound to happen and he’d rather it was him than someone else. Besides, he wasn’t ready for what that statement meant. Not yet. He wanted to be, God, he wanted to be, but- But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. 

“Bones, you learned to be a doctor in a country hospital where mostly the people you treated were complete strangers. You weren’t trained for this, for serving with a crew and a family and people you see on a daily basis. The rules don’t apply out here, you said so yourself. You gotta be realistic, take things as they come. Adjust and adapt, right?” And God, Jim hoped he didn’t sound as pleading as he thought he did, almost like he was begging Bones to stop feeling guilty. “I said you’d be my CMO. I fought for you to be on the Enterprise when we were given this mission and- Letting you transfer off here was the worst command decision I’ve ever made, and that’s saying a lot. I nearly let Chekov get married by accident.” His lips twitched and the alarm on his desk plinked at him demandingly. He knocked it off, silencing it with a tap of his index finger. 

As much as he didn’t want to explore that particular thought, the one about him dying, he needed to ask. Curiosity and all. “You never thought what?”

"I never thought I'd lose you." Bones offered with a shrug. "I got cocky, thinkin' I learned everything I needed to know to keep you alive. Now look who’s got egg on his face?" And true to form, the alarm had gone off and there was Bones in his face with his medication. "Don't make me have to straddle you, Jim 'cause you know full well that I will."

Jim rolled his eyes, ignoring the surge of want that rippled through his stomach at the mention of straddling because, really, what had he been thinking earlier? Pretty much exactly that. He reached out and took both, the dispenser and the water and worried at his lower lip with his teeth as he obediently and without argument just popped the medication into his mouth and swallowed it with the whole tumbler of water. 

“See, I wouldn’t say you got egg on your face, Bones, considering I’m still here and you didn’t actually lose me,” Jim pointed out because it was the truth. He always felt pretty invincible when Bones was around, more so after his brush with death that had been handily and supremely awesomely diverted by the genius of the man in front of him. “Because y’know, you bought me back to life and all.” Granted, the side effects were less than pleasant, and Jim could already feel the nausea clawing at the back of his throat, fuck, he hated this bit. 

He shrugged. “You know, since I’m _still_ alive and all-“

"I got lucky," Bones interjected. "If that damned Tribble hadn't come back to life-"

“I’ve been taking these every day without you standing over me like a mother hen,” he grumbled, a faint sheen of sweat already beading on his forehead. “I was just gonna wait till you’d left before-“ he wet his lower lip, something akin to shame - and maybe embarrassment - burning in his eyes and on his cheeks. “I didn’t want you t-“

Nope, he wasn’t holding it. 

The nausea rose like a tidal wave, like a fucking tsunami up the back of his throat, and Jim just about had enough time to fling his glasses onto the table and stumble (because his legs were already starting to give a bit, bones turned to jello) into the bathroom. He didn’t even have time to close the door before the sound of dry-heaving (because he hadn’t eaten anything in like, six hours or something) could be heard throughout his quarters. God, why did it always feel like his body was trying to make him throw up his colon?

Through the sound of his body trying to heave up his internal organs and the sound of his pulse racing in his ears, Jim was able to finally realise that there was someone knelt beside him, Bones, murmuring “S’alright, I got ya, kid." And there was a hand moving through his hair and over the length of his back as he shuddered and shook and shivered with the roiling waves of nausea that had him hunched over the toilet. He wanted to pull away - he’d been doing this on his own after all, he didn’t need Bones to sweep in and comfort him now out of some misplaced guilt for fucking leaving, but then at the same time Jim hated this bit, he hated that this bit made him feel like he was literally shaking apart at the seams.

He reached up, hand waving over the automatic flush as soon as he was sure that the bit where he was sick was over. He swallowed past the lingering taste of bile that clung to his tastebuds and just shuddered again, pretty much turning his head and folding into Bones’ chest, into the warmth and the comfort and the hand in his hair. He hid his face against the older man’s collar bone and closed his eyes. Now that the nausea was over, the shuddering and the shaking started, his whole body fighting a war against itself. 

“Didn’t want you to see me like this,” he mumbled weakly into Bones’ chest, sounding young and upset at himself for what they both knew he considered a display of weakness.

"I know," Bones shared gruffly and Jim’s eyes if they hadn’t already been closed would have done so at the press of lips to his hair and he wondered when it was alright in his own mind for Bones to see him like this? He knew he should tell the man to leave because Bones _left him_ , regretting the decision or not, he’d left and he only came back because Spock asked. The hand in Jim's hair kept moving, slow and reassuring, the tips circling and gently massaging as Bones all but cradled Jim's head. He was still talking, soft Georgia accent drawing Jim in like a star. "But I ain't tellin' a soul. Never have an' never will."

Jim grumbled something unintelligible and slurred against Bones’ chest before he decided that he needed to move because they were on the bathroom floor for a start and Jim could still smell bile even if it was only in his mind and he just wanted a moment of space because fuck if he was letting himself get complacent again. Not again. Because it hurt too much and- But even as he thought about moving, his whole body just rebelled and curled in closer to Bones, sucking up and absorbing that comfort, lapping it up like he’d been stranded in the desert for all this time and suddenly with those arms around him he’d found an oasis. 

“Don’t matter much, whole damn ship knows anyway. Not how bad, just that ’snot good.” He moved his head a little, trying to pull away from those treacherously relaxing and reassuring fingers, from that touch that was pulling Jim into an abyss he didn’t want to be lost in but couldn’t help himself because he’d missed it so much - even if Bones had never really touched him like this before. They’d touched, sure, but it had never been like this, never this intimate on Bones’ side. “Gotta get off th’floor, B’nes,” he mumbled.

"Easy," Bones murmured and Jim just wanted to turn his face and hide in Bones’ neck until everything went away so he could pretend for just a little bit longer that everything was alright. "Gotta take it slow, remember?" 

Jim’s arm was eased over Bones’ shoulders so that the older man could support his weight and he was flung back to the Academy when Bones would walk him back to his dorm, often bleeding and blind drunk, laughing uproariously about the fight he’d just been in, describing it in exaggerated detail and completely unable to stand up under his own steam due to the complex mixture of exhaustion and alcohol. Sometimes Bones dragged him home after a night of brooding, where Jim had drunk too much and spent the evening sulking, letting the dark thoughts circle around his head until they were all he could think and it was that southerner, that man who had wormed under his skin that pulled him out of his funk and made him smile, took him home and told him that it’d be alright in the morning.

He was glad for the pause because the nausea returned when his head spun at being upright. He turned his head, hiding his face in the warm curve of Bones’ neck, feeling the press of his own clammy skin against that of the doctor’s and fuck if it didn’t feel good, reassuring. 

“‘m alright,” he slurred, making the move to start them heading into the main quarters, pointing towards the couch first before realising he didn’t want to give away that he hadn’t been sleeping in the bed before he changed where he was pointing, covering the error with a self-deprecating laugh (that was really move of a huffed breath), “mm, th’ bed’s over that way.” 

He just needed an hour, that was all. Just the one hour and he’d be fine and able to go back to work. Not that he was due on shift for another six hours, but at least he could get up and be on his way and be able to do something that wasn’t just sitting in his room and feeling sorry for himself. Jim’s hands spasmed as they moved, closing his eyes past the burning in his muscles.

When they reached the bed, Jim just sort of curled up on it, feeling small and pathetic and frustrated. He did this every day, why wasn’t he used to this sensation yet? He wet his lower lip.

“Thanks.” He wasn’t expecting Bones to stay. They’d done their talking, if he was honest, he was surprised that the man was still here. He hadn’t been expecting that. Before, maybe. But not now.

"Mmm, that it is. Don't even mention it," Bones offered in response to the mumbled thanks and Jim had his head in the duvet because he hadn’t wanted to watch Bones walk out and leave him on his own, so when he heard the dull thud of boots hitting the floor and the sudden dip of someone on the bed next to him, he stiffened first off in surprise and wariness before he was being eased onto his side with a thigh underneath his head and the warm reassurance of those fingers in his hair again.

If Jim was feeling better, he would have allowed his mind to think about all the dirty fantasies he had about that man and his hands, as it was he just wanted to close his eyes and ignore the world for a bit, a feat which seemed infinitely more possible with those touches. He let out a soft sound, comfortable and something approaching relaxed as he let those touches lull him into relaxation.

"Get some sleep, kid."

“You don’ have t’stay,” he managed to mumble though he really didn’t want Bones to leave. “‘m very boring when ‘masleep.” It was an out. He kind of hoped that Bones would take it because it was easier not to fall over himself all over again if Bones just left, didn’t do the stuff he used to all over again because they weren’t okay. Bones still left him and didn’t come back for Jim, he came back because Spock asked him and- But at the same time he wanted Bones to stay because he’d missed him and he didn’t think that he’d catch up on that missed time if he looked at the man until his eyes fell out of his head. 

"That might well be the case, but I ain't goin' anywhere. But like I said, get some sleep."

Jim snorted softly. “Yessir,” he mumbled thickly, already half asleep just from the soft ministrations and touches. 

He’d always been tactile, always probably a little too much, but Bones… Bones had always touched him to keep him still, it had really always been him that initiated the contact, an arm around the guy’s shoulders to lighten him up, draw him into conversation, steal his attention from someone. 

Bones’ touches had always been more practical _stop and listen to me, Jim_ and _Goddammit, kid, let me check that head injury out_ and _Breathe, it’s gonna be okay_ and _You’re a damned fool, let me set those fingers_. But now, the touches were different, somehow, and Jim wanted to try and figure them out, the same way he figured everything else out but he was too busy falling asleep.

*

“Captain’s log, supplemental. Today's January 30th, by the old Julian calendar. Not that anyone uses that anymore, it’s an outdated system of counting, but whatever. I like to know. Just another one of those things, I guess. There’s pretty much nothing nearby, no planets, not even any planetoids we can set foot on and explore and do those geological surveys Spock’s so set upon doing whenever we can. It’s not like we need anywhere else to spread out to. We do fine on terra and the other Federation planets. Jeez.

“Bones is back. He’s been keeping mostly to Sickbay which is what’s expected of a CMO. He’s sent out all the appointments for check ups and vaccinations because we’ve been so busy recently that they were missed. Not M’Benga’s fault. Better make sure Bones doesn’t rip the guy a new one. There was a small reactor leak in Engineering, Scotty assures me that it’s under control and that no one was hurt and said that if anyone grew a third eye or an extra hand, he’d send them straight down to Sickbay. 

“I offered to go down and help. Scotty yelled the word no so loudly I think it nearly ruptured the speaker in my ready room. I don’t get it. It’s just a little radiat- Oh. Yeah. Okay. I get it now. I better apologise to him.

“I still can’t believe Bones is back. We’re meeting some delegates from some planet soon, 2260.45, I think. I need to read the paperwork that Spock put together for me, it’s on my PADD. Better do that before they arrive. They’re looking to join the Federation to take advantage of some of our medical facilities, I think, and they’ve got some resource on their planet they don’t need but we do. God only knows. Need to read that a bit more.

“Last time I dealt with any Ambassadors on Federation property, it was a suicide mission that nearly killed Bones. That was at the Academy. Since then, we’ve tried to meet delegates in a neutral setting. 

“Spock says they’re a peaceful people, but they’re coming onto my ship. I have a bad feeling about this.”


	35. Stardate 2260.30

_Stardate 2260.30 - Eight days since Bones came back_

“Captain’s log, supplemental. Today's January 30th, by the old Julian calendar. Not that anyone uses that anymore, it’s an outdated system of counting, but whatever. I like to know. Just another one of those things, I guess. There’s pretty much nothing nearby, no planets, not even any planetoids we can set foot on and explore and do those geological surveys Spock’s so set upon doing whenever we can. It’s not like we need anywhere else to spread out to. We do fine on terra and the other Federation planets. Jeez.

“Bones is back. He’s been keeping mostly to Sickbay which is what’s expected of a CMO. He’s sent out all the appointments for check ups and vaccinations because we’ve been so busy recently that they were missed. Not M’Benga’s fault. Better make sure Bones doesn’t rip the guy a new one. There was a small reactor leak in Engineering, Scotty assures me that it’s under control and that no one was hurt and said that if anyone grew a third eye or an extra hand, he’d send them straight down to Sickbay. 

“I offered to go down and help. Scotty yelled the word no so loudly I think it nearly ruptured the speaker in my ready room. I don’t get it. It’s just a little radiat- Oh. Yeah. Okay. I get it now. I better apologise to him.

“I still can’t believe Bones is back. We’re meeting some delegates from some planet soon, 2260.45, I think. I need to read the paperwork that Spock put together for me, it’s on my PADD. Better do that before they arrive. They’re looking to join the Federation to take advantage of some of our medical facilities, I think, and they’ve got some resource on their planet they don’t need but we do. God only knows. Need to read that a bit more.

“Last time I dealt with any Ambassadors on Federation property, it was a suicide mission that nearly killed Bones. That was at the Academy. Since then, we’ve tried to meet delegates in a neutral setting. 

“Spock says they’re a peaceful people, but they’re coming onto my ship. I have a bad feeling about this.”


	36. Stardate 2260.31

_Stardate 2260.31 - Nine days since Bones came back_

It was roughly 0300 by the time he admitted that sleep wasn’t going to be instantly available to him. It was irritating and he’d laid on the couch in his room for hours just trying to will himself to sleep. He’d managed before, when there wasn’t a presence on the ship that his subconscious craved like no other. He’d managed to sleep when Bones wasn’t on the ship. He would continue to sleep on his own now that Bones was back.

It wasn’t as if he was wanted in there anymore anyway. At least, he didn’t think he was. Despite the fact that the CMO turned up in his ready room or his quarters every eight hours like clockwork, to see him through the worst of the side effects of those pills, there was no other indication that they were back to where they had been before and Jim was trying to be resistant anyway. He didn’t want to get hurt again. Couldn’t help that all he wanted to do was crawl into the space Bones had left behind and invite the other man to join him, unpack his heart and his hurts and let Bones move into the space Jim hadn’t even bothered trying to fill up with other stuff.

But it was 0300 and he had to be on shift at 0600 and he needed some sleep, even if wasn’t a lot, so he’d ended up padding to Bones’ old quarters, letting himself in and being extremely confused when they were empty. A brief - and irritated - conversation with the ship’s computer told him that Bones was on the deck below (which wasn’t right because he was one of the senior command staff and their rooms were all relatively close together) so down he headed.

Fully prepared to have to hack his way into Bones’ room, or use the Captain’s override, he was surprised when the code was the same as it had always been, and silently he let himself in, crawled up and lay down on the vacant side of Bones’ bed. 

He slept, for the first time, without nightmares or cramp. And at 0545, when there was a faint sheen of sweat showing on Bones’ brow, a deepening of the creases in the man’s forehead, Jim was loathe to leave but he had to get on shift and couldn’t stay and he slipped out of the door, ignoring the urge he had to turn back around and smooth those creases away, soothe whatever was haunting Bones’ dreams.


	37. Stardate 2260.33

_Stardate 2260.33 - Eleven days since Bones came back_

It was safe to say that after that first night - even though it had been less than three hours - it was a slippery slope for one James T Kirk who found that as soon as he thought about going to bed and grabbing some shut-eye, he was already anticipating how he would be sneaking into Bones’ room to sleep.

It had started at the Academy, about six months in when they’d crashed together after a night out and he’d been too drunk to return to his own quarters. He’d ended up on the couch, yelling Sam’s name, waking with sweat pouring off him, plastering his hair to his face and chest heaving. Bones had pulled him onto the bed, put a hand on his hip and gone back to sleep and just like that, Jim’s nightmares had ceased. It was addictive, a peaceful night’s sleep, and it hadn’t stopped. All through the Academy, after Nero… He and Bones just drifted together and after Bones had left it was like he had to re-learn how to sleep on his own and just under three hours had ruined almost a year’s hard work. 

Stupid Bones.

But here he was again, standing in Bones’ quarters (his actual quarters, he’d had a word with a couple of people, pointed out that Bones had quarters that weren’t filled with someone’s stuff and that he should be there, instead of somewhere else and it was done very quickly. Sometimes it was _awesome_ being Captain), watching the older man sleep and perhaps that was a kind of… creepy in a way. He never used to feel like that, like he was invading Bones’ privacy by being there, by sitting on the edge of the bed and watching the expressions that moved across the older man’s face as he slept, by curling up behind him with knees pressed against his lower back because he was too afraid to sleep any closer.

And in the morning when he pulled on his uniform and snuck out, he ignored the gnawing sense of guilt that clawed at the pit of his stomach and the growing feeling of self disgust at his own cowardice.


	38. Stardate 2260.34

_Stardate 2260.34 - Twelve days since Bones came back_

He woke with a start, though it wasn’t from a nightmare of his own, this time. Beside him on the bed, Bones was twitching, long fingers flexing in the sheets, neck taut with the strain of whatever was haunting his dreams and Jim felt like he was at a bit of loss as to what to do. He didn’t think that grabbing Bones and waking him was the best of ideas and his own morbid curiosity had him rubbing at his eyes and pushing himself upright, the sheets falling to his waist, watching as Bones twisted again, legs tangling in them, tugging them further away from Jim. Thankfully it wasn’t cold, the ambient temperature was always adequate to ensure comfortable sleep. 

He swallowed, wet his lower lip and raked his fingers through his hair, trying to work out what he was meant to do. Did he reach out? Think, Jim, what would Bones do?

He watched as Bones' eyebrows drew together and the muscle in his jaw ticked as he ground his teeth in his sleep, sweat glistening on his forehead and troubled sleep clearly shown in how he strained against the sheets. "Jim," he muttered roughy. "No, kid, no." 

Jim blinked. Why was Bones saying his name? He reached out, hand hovering over Bones’ shoulder, in a twisted way not wanting to touch just yet, not wanting to shock Bones out of the nightmare because he wanted to know what he was dreaming about. Wanted to know what was going through the man’s mind. Distantly he was disappointed that Bones was clearly having a nightmare about him. If he’d been having any other kind of dream about him, that would have been acceptable, but a nightmare? Really?

"Don't you dare," Bones muttered gruffly. "Already died on me once you don't get to do it again." He pushed out a breath and twisted that much more until his legs were effectively tangled and he was starting to sweat through them. "Jesus, Jim. Breathe goddamn you, just breathe. Please, just breathe." His hands flexed and then curled in the pillow, knuckles turning white, the undertone of pleading to his voice being something Jim had never heard before and he felt himself lurch sickeningly. Was Bones dreaming about the warp core? But he was already dead when-

He closed his eyes briefly, a part of him wanting to just turn and walk out because he didn’t think he should be party to this, but then Bones had seen his nightmares - most of them anyway - and soothed them away. Not that he had the faintest idea of how he could go about trying to chase this particular one away.

He settled for rubbing his hand up and down Bones’ upper arm, squeezing gently, trying to tell the man’s subconscious that he was there. “Ssh, Bones,” he murmured, touch moving over the length of the guy’s arm. “S’okay, man, I’m right here. Totally not dead yet.”

"Gotta be somethin' else," Bones continued to mumble, seemingly unaffected by Jim’s words. "Somethin' I missed. There's gotta be."

“I’m alive, man,” Jim told Bones’ subconscious, hand moving over the full length of Bones’ arm, squeezing his wrist, then his shoulder, trying to at least draw the man into some kind of relaxation. He sucked at this, this was why he always did the sleeping and the having of the nightmares. 

He shifted a little, trying to at least get Bones onto his back, reaching up to gently work those fingers free from where they were gripping the pillow. “You did it, you saved me. I’m alive, and I’m here and it’s all- it’s all okay.”

Jim realised that something he’d said - or done - had some small impact, but Bones’ grip on the pillow remained firm up until the point he was coaxed onto his back, his breathing tight and obviously panicked. Jim’s hand rubbed over his chest, trying to slow that panicked breathing down because Jesus, what the hell was going on behind Bones’ eyelids?

"Keep slippin'," Bones muttered with a shake of his head. "Just when I think I've got it all figured out you just- Shit, Jim. Stop dying on me."

“I’m not, Bones, jeez, I’m right here.” Jim protested, not even feeling like an idiot for talking to the sleeping man, holding a bizarre one sided conversation. He shifted so that he, too, was lying down, hand resting on Bones’ chest, able to feel the frantic heartbeat underneath his palm. It didn’t match his own, Jim’s was a bit slower but that’s because he wasn’t trapped in a nightmare. 

Wait.

Heartbeat.

Dammit Jim, he thought to himself, you’re a genius.

Jim shifted again, lying on his back and wondering just when he decided that manhandling someone in their sleep was okay, grabbing Bones’ left wrist and using the touch to draw him onto his side, pressing that palm against his own chest, the hammering of his heartbeat, irregular but strong enough, underneath Bones’ palm.

“See?” he murmured, manipulating Bones’ fingers until they were spread akimbo against Jim’s chest, ignoring the way his heart sped up a little at the touch. It wasn’t as if this touch was voluntary, after all. And they were fully clothed. “’m right here. You did it.”

Fingers curled against his chest, and soon enough, Bones’ breathing was evening out and fingers curling ever so slightly against Jim’s chest. He wet his lower lip and just blew out a breath, watching the ceiling and listening to the - now even - sounds of one Leonard H McCoy sleeping peacefully beside him. Or more peacefully anyway. 

Now the only thing he had left to do was to get to sleep himself and sneak out before the good doctor’s alarm went off at 0830.

He was finding that, even this early on, he was less and less inclined to sneak out in the mornings and leave. He knew he had to, his presence wasn’t wanted, but it was hard (in fact, it was becoming harder and harder) to just get up and go from something that made him feel so safe.


	39. Stardate 2260.45

_Stardate 2260.45 - Twenty three days since Bones came back_

The Arlathian people were beautiful, Jim thought that there was no other way of putting it. They were tall and lithe with huge blue eyes and their skin caught the light almost glittering under it, as if their pores had sparkles in them. Their clothes were both form fitting and loose all at the same time and they moved with a preternatural grace that Jim had never seen before. They were, really, encapsulating and interested in joining the Federation to have access to the trade routes and to experience the joy of other races and peoples. In return, they were willing to let a portion of their planet be devoted to shore leave for Starfleet personnel and they were also more than happy to share their technologies and their research as well as let the Federation mine their planet for the crystallised- whatever it was they had. Jim couldn’t remember.

He was currently giving a tour to two of the Ambassadors who had requested to stay behind after the initial briefing when the rest had returned to their ship. He hadn’t wanted anyone else to give the tour because whilst he didn’t… not trust them, he didn’t trust them either which meant that he wanted to keep an eye on them. 

They’d taken a detour down to medical after one of them (the woman, Jim thought, but they were androgynous and looked the same so it was sort of hard to tell) had requested to see the Sickbay that the ‘human with the beautiful wrinkles in his head’ ran so efficiently. Jim had nearly laughed himself sick when he thought about Bones’ reaction to being told that face he pulled when he was irritated with something was ‘beautiful. He’d had to leave the Ambassadors with Spock as he composed himself and apologise profusely for any offence he’d caused - and to reassure them that they hadn’t offended him - because really, it had just struck him as funny. Hilarious, even.

So there they were, in Sickbay. It was thankfully empty, and the Arlathians’ were practically glowing with sparkles underneath all the artificial lights of the infirmary.

“Bones?” Jim called as they came to a halt in the middle of the open area. “You in here?” At least they were talking now, he thought. At least there wasn’t that same kind of awkwardness that there had been before. He supposed that was down to the fact that they’d sort of talked but more importantly, it was down to the fact that they were hanging out together again. 

Okay, sure, when they did hang out, Jim was either shaking and shuddering through the internal war his body raged against the infection of Khan’s cells or watching Bones sleep and soothing him through nightmares he didn’t know the guy had. He’d found that the only way to make the man sleep all the way through the night was to have that warm, calloused hand (with those fucking _fingers_ , Jesus, the things Jim wanted him to do with those fingers and those hands) pressed against his chest above his heart. It seemed to be the only thing that calmed Bones down when the nightmares hit.

He rocked back on his heels, glancing at the Arlathians before he clicked his tongue behind his teeth. “C’mon, Bones, quit hiding. People want you to be social.”

"I was busy doin' work," Bones pointed out as he wandered out of his office and Jim’s smile simultaneously widened and softened at the sight before he caught himself and rubbed at the back of his neck. "A CMO's work is never done, you oughta know that better than anyone."

“I know, man, but they wanted to come see you and I couldn’t say no, now, could I.” Jim offered with a roguish grin, fingers scrubbing through his hair impishly before he shrugged his shoulders and glancing at their guests. “See, this is the sickbay, I’m sure Bones could tell you all the boring stuff about it if you wanted but really we can get moving with the rest of the tour now you’ve seen him and-“

“Could we continue the tour with this one?” one of the delegates asked. Jim was sure that one was the woman. Yep. Pretty sure. “We wish for him to take us.” She crossed over the distance between Jim and the doctor and Jim watched with narrowed eyes in the corners as she ran her finger along the edge of Bones’ jaw. Beside him, and Jim noticed (because Jim saw things), he saw the other Arlathan’s pupils dilate slightly.

“Bones? Give you a tour? I don’t think so,” Jim said, putting on his Captain voice, but still trying to be friendly. “He won’t wanna do that, will you, Bones. I bet you’re real busy.”

“I’m sure you’re not too busy for us, are you, Doctor McCoy?” she asked, her finger trailing along his jaw again.

"S'alright, Jim. I can give them the rest of the tour.” 

“Yeah, I know it’s a disappointment but maybe next time an- wait, what?” Jim turned disbelieving eyes to his doctor friend, confused because he could have sworn he’d just heard Bones say ‘yes’ to giving these aliens a tour. But Bones hated aliens. He hated aliens a lot. Why was he saying yes?

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, her hand on his shoulder. Jim was baffled, in all honesty, because he wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing. Why was Bones agreeing to this madness? Surely that wasn’t normal?

“Bones… are you sure?” he asked, pushing the point only because he knew Bones and he knew that a few months on a star ship and a spaceport wouldn’t change the guy’s mind. Especially when he was so vehement about not spending time with aliens. His luck with them wasn’t great, after all. “Because I don’t mind giving them the rest of the tour. And you guys’ll be back tomorrow anyway-“

“Yeah,” Bones answered and Jim frowned again. Had he missed something?

“No, I would like this one to give me the tour.” And her eyes sort of flashed a little and Jim felt a sudden sense of urgency to just draw Bones near him and protect him. She was still touching him and he pushed down on his possessiveness. Bones wasn’t his to possess. But he wasn’t hers to touch either.

"I'm sure, Jim, honestly, it's fine." And it wasn’t, Jim knew it wasn’t. His gut was never wrong about things like this, but Bones had that tone and he just nodded his head, lifting his hands in surrender, but there was concern behind his eyes, his mind was yelling at him not to leave them alone. Not to let Bones be alone with those aliens. But he couldn’t refuse without good reason. 

Was manufacturing an explosion somewhere a good enough reason? But he couldn’t do that. Not to his ship. He loved her too much and that was probably a little extreme, considering. 

“Thank you,” the male Arlathian said (and Jim was sure he’d been given their names but hell if he could remember them. Too many ‘k’s for his liking. “You may leave us now.” He reached out and touched Jim’s shoulder. A dizzying sensation swept over him before he found himself just nodding his head and turning on his heel, walking out of the infirmary.

He was halfway back towards the bridge before he realised that something was very wrong as he shook what felt like the remnants of a cloud, a fog, off of his mind. The turbolift hit the bridge and he strode onto it, straight to his ready room to read up on those aliens. 

He needed a good reason to kick them the hell off his ship.

*

He spent the next forty minutes reading through all the information Spock had gathered on the Arlathians and felt his blood boiling at some of the information about their physiology that he really wished he’d known about beforehand. Because there was no way that he would have let that woman anywhere near his doctor if he’d known. 

“I really should read these before we let people on the ship,” he muttered to himself, heart hammering painfully in his chest.

“I find that I must agree,” Spock intoned dryly from behind him and Jim scowled. 

“You’re meant to ask for permission before you come in, you know. What if I was naked and having sex with Yeoman Rand?” Jim asked. Such a question would have had several different reactions from several different crew members, but the one who he did want to get an embarrassed rise from steadfastly refused to be swayed or surprised by anything Jim said which was hugely frustrating. 

“As you are currently neither nude nor engaging in copulation with someone of a subordinate rank, which, I must remind you is against regulations, Captain, then I feel your question is irrelevant. The current situation, however, is not. Am I correct in understanding that two delegates remain?”

“Yes,” Jim answered, internally groaning in frustration at his once again foiled attempt at obtaining a reaction from his first officer. “They’re having the grand tour, with a guest appearance from your friendly neighbourhood Bones. Fun for all occasions. You know they kicked me out of my own medbay, and then I felt all cloudy when they touched me and-“

It slammed into him, then, the realisation of what might have happened. The file said something about how their male genetics were weaker than the female. How their population was suffering from difficulties breeding and one of the footnotes in the information Jim had - neglected to read - absently skipped in his brief glance through before they arrived outlined their request for help in stabilising their genome. They had- well, they emitted particularly strong pheromones.

“They have _pheromones_!” He exclaimed and Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Captain. Transmitted through touch. This was all in the briefing which you neglected to read.”

“I so read it. Why are you even in here?”

“I wanted to check the status of the remaining delegates, to ensure that they were returned to their own ship soon. We will soon be switching crews as shifts change. I would rather they were not here.”

“Me too,” Jim grumbled, pushing his thumb against the computer portal nearby. “Computer, locate Dr McCoy.”

“Dr McCoy is currently on D-Deck.”

Jim frowned and glanced at Spock. “Why is he on D-Deck? There’s no need to take the delegates there. It’s not like they’re going to sleep or anythi- _Fuck_.”

Spock’s eyebrow merely arched again and he waited patiently for the explanation that he knew was coming. Jim didn’t disappoint. 

“Look, they’ve been obsessing over Bones’ forehead wrinkles, and at some point one of them said he smelt strong. And then they were bugging me to go see him and then they whammied him and they whammied me to make me go away and- And their population’s weak and their men are totally infertile or something and-”

“I am aware of their breeding difficulties, Captain-“

“Jim.”

“-Jim- because I put together the briefing document. Are you suggesting that the Arlathian delegates stayed behind in order to procure some of Doctor McCoy’s DNA? They would not be able to do that without his permission. I understand that the act is quite delicate and intimate.”

“Spock,” Jim said, exasperated, feeling like he was talking to a child and an old man at the same time. “They’ve whammied him with their pheromones. I don’t know what kind of effect they have, I mean, whether or not they’re just making him agreeable or working him up or whatever-” He pressed his teeth together, jabbing the communication button again. “They’re gonna have sex with him and that’s not-“

He waited for the computer to bleep. “Computer, locate Doctor McCoy.”

“Doctor McCoy is on D-Deck.”

“Based on his current movements, where is he headed.”

“Based on current data, Doctor McCoy is heading towards his quarters.”

Jim’s eyes cut to Spock and the look on his face had the first officer going to man the bridge, correctly assuming that Jim would not yet be returning there. 

“Captain Kirk to Security. Matt, you there?”

Lieutenant Matthew Riley had been Jim's Chief of Security the first time the other man had been given his first and actual command, he'd been there through the good and the bad. He'd also learned to recognise certain tones and when the Captain had that sort of tone he answered immediately. There was kind of an efficiency in the way that Matthew Riley worked that Jim really liked. It didn’t hurt that he’d been one of the two instructors that had pointed out that Jim didn’t need to be taught how to fight as much as he should be teaching others. Jim respected him for that.

"I'm here, Captain. What can I do for you?"

“I want a full security contingent on the bridge five minutes ago. At least five people.” He said, “Be among them, okay? I’ll be waiting by the turbolift.” 

Matt's brow furrowed - Jim could hear it in the slightly older Lieutenant’s voice - and Jim imagined Matt immediately signalling for the men around him to start gearing up. There was low muttering and rustling that came over the conn. "Is there something I ought to be aware of, Captain?" He sounded like he was worrying that he’d missed something.

“Quit second guessing yourself, you didn’t miss anything. I think Bones is about to get royally fucked by the ambassadors and I don’t want to face them alone. They’ve got some weird tactile pheromone thing and- Actually, meet me on D-Deck, ‘kay? I’m heading down now. Don’t let them touch you when you get there. Kirk out.”

Jim got to his feet and rubbed his hands over his face before he grabbed his phaser from the vault in the wall of his ready room and strode through the bridge, into the turbolift. He thumbed the button for D-Deck and pushed back on his own irrational, frustrated, possessive anger that was making his blood boil at the thought that those… those- those _things_ had their hands all over Bones with the intention of stealing his DNA to take for their own to harvest and make mini-Bones out of and-

Breathe, he told himself, grinding his teeth together and reminding himself that starting an intergalactic incident by shooting one of the delegates wasn’t the right way to go about this, even if he was unbearably curious as to what would happen if he did shoot one of them. Would they explode in a shower of glitter and pheromones?

“No,” he muttered to himself but entertaining the fantasy made him feel a little better, “Can’t do that.” 

*

Jim saw Bones and the two Arlathians near the door to Bones’ room, the man’s hands pretty much ready to key in the code to his quarters and invite them inside and God, if Bones didn’t look dishevelled already and it made Jim want to do all manner of dirty things to him, those hazel irises pretty much swallowed up by the pupils. He swallowed and put on his Captain voice again, authoritarian and stern.

“Arlathian delegates, _guests_ of the USS-Enterprise, step away from Doctor McCoy.” 

The female Arlathian turned her head, and Jim was relieved when he saw Matt and a few others appear from the opposite direction.

“Captain,” she said, her hand still on McCoy, her thumb (well, it looked too long to be a thumb but it was the closed description he could come up with) brushing along the long arch of Bones’ neck. “The doctor was just going to show us his quarters. We’re most curious as to how you humans sleep.”

“You don’t want us to leave, do you, Doctor,” the other Arlathian said, voice a low purr and Jim felt his blood boiling again.

“In this situation, the doctor doesn’t get a choice. Bones, get into your room. I’ll be in in a moment.” Jim said before Bones could answer. “You two will be escorted to your shuttle by this security team and you will return to your ship. You will explain to your delegate team that your actions here have jeopardised all hope of utilising the resources being a part of the Federation would have given you.” His voice was stern and cold and he glanced at Matt and his team. “My team will escort you to your ship. If you touch them, they will shoot you.”

His eyes cut to Matthew and the team. He wasn’t joking.The aliens even had the gall to look disappointed as Bones shuffled into his room and the door hissed shut behind him. One problem down. 

“Am I clear?”

"Aye, Captain." Matt said, eyeing the aliens with suspicion. He lifted his phaser and offered a smirk. Jim felt a surge of affection for his Chief of Security. The guy was pretty awesome. "Now, Ambassadors, would you kindly move in the direction of the shuttle bay? I'm only asking the once."

There was a moment of reluctance before the delegates moved away from the door to Bones’ quarters. 

“We will not forget this, Captain,” the female said and Jim just lifted a shoulder.

“Neither will I. You manipulated a Starfleet Captain and intended on assaulting a member of my crew. You and your people will never be a part of the Federation as long as I’m around to remind them that you and your kind can’t be trusted.” He lifted his head, looking every inch the Captain everyone knew he could be. “Lieutenant Riley, don’t let them touch you, and get them the hell off my ship.”

Jim stood there with his arms folded for at least five minutes after the delegates were marched away before he keyed in the Captain’s override to Bones’ room. He slid inside and locked the door, not looking for Bones just yet.

“Captain Kirk to Bridge.”

“Bridge here, Captain,” Spock’s voice answered.

“Please inform the Arlathian ship that we will are no longer discussing their joining the Federation. Their two delegates are on their way, and the Arlathians can return to their planet. When they learn to ask for what they want instead of just trying to take it, maybe we can talk again.”

“…Do you want me to quote that exactly to the Arlathian embassy?”

“No, Spock. Paraphrase. Make it better. I’ve gotta look after Bones. I’ll be up to debrief you soon. Kirk out.” He removed his finger from the communicator and then turned to survey the room. “Lights 75%.” 

The lights lifted in the room a little more. “Bones?” he started, spotting his friend sitting on the edge of his bed, hands clasped together.

"Mmm?" Bones murmured and Jim felt concerned at how much the guy’s hands were moving through his hair, restless. He didn’t know what Bones had been whammied with, didn’t want to think about what could have happened too deeply because he’d want to blow up that damn ship, but he was pretty sure Spock could handle the delegations so he could focus on looking after his erstwhile best friend.

“Only you, man,” Jim teased as he crossed over to crouch in front of Bones, covering the older man’s hands with his briefly before he lifted one hand to catch Bones’ chin, tipping the guy’s head up a little. Jesus he looked like sin. Jim felt his stomach twist in entirely inappropriate arousal at the blown out pupils and slight flush to Bones’ cheeks, the rumpled hair from having hands pushed through it.

He cleared his throat. “You doin’ okay, Bones?”

Bones let loose with a gruff laugh and Jim felt himself starting to think tactically; if Bones wasn’t okay, what did he need to do? "Nah, kid. I ain't doin' okay. I feel like I'm on fucking fire."

That was a big admission and Jim pressed his lips together before he wet his lower lip, ducking into Bones’ eyeline. “What do you- I mean, do I gotta get you to sickbay? What do you need?” he asked, touch lifting to press against the doctor’s forehead. He felt a bit warm, not too much, but just enough, and he was sweating a little. Was that normal? Why did he look so fucked out?

Was it- Jim racked his brains for what could cause a reaction like this, and he resisted the - totally inappropriate - urge he had to laugh because it was entirely possible (nay, quite probable) that Bones had been hit with pheromones designed to induce a state of arousal. If they’d been intending on mating with him and all. Fucking sex pheromones. And Bones had been hit. Fabulous.

“C’mon Bones, you gotta help me out here.” Should he stop touching? He should probably stop touching. His hands had moved; one on Bones’ knee, the other on his shoulder, thumb against the curve where shoulder and neck met, touch on bare skin because Bones wasn’t wearing his uniform (and damnit, he really needed to be). 

"You may wanna stop touching me," he finally muttered through his teeth. "It's- I mean, I can't-" 

Bones curled his hands in Jim's top and pulled him closer until he was fully immersed in the other man and Jim could feel the press of skin against skin, Bones felt fever warm and he just swallowed past his own reaction, lifting both hands to curl around Bones’ wrists. His intention was to gently detangle himself, get some space between them but then the word "Jesus," was mumbled and Jim had to close his eyes for a second.

“Bones-“ he muttered, his own voice probably a little rougher than he would have liked to admit, because, _come on_ he was only human, “Bones- I don’t-“ he leaned back a bit, one hand on Bones’ chest over his heart, the other catching the doctor’s chin again between forefinger and thumb. “What’s going on? I’m- I mean, I’ve got some ideas but a little guidance wouldn’t go amiss here, doc.” 

His lips twitched a little and fuck. Wow. Sex pheromones, totally wasted on Bones. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

Bones lifted dark eyes to Jim, having cleared his throat, the sound rough and low and it did inappropriate things to Jim. It always had done. "My heartbeat's elevated, I feel like I'm on fire, like my skin's crawling and all I can think about is-" 

Jim was about to ask what when suddenly Bones was kissing him, and this wasn’t the same kind of angry kiss Jim had planted on him, nor was it the desperate kiss of a man in what was, effectively, heat, but the press of lips against his was languid and slow and confident and inside his boots he could feel his toes curling and he was responding before he could help himself, meeting Bones halfway and pressing back. His hands tightened in the fabric of Bones’ shirt, touch slipping to the back of the doctor’s neck to draw him in closer.

It was perfect, pretty much. The kiss made stars explode behind his eyelids which was more than could be said for most of the kisses he’d ever had in his life, but then when he really thought about what they were doing, how those hands were beginning to move like they were going to sink into his hair, Jim pulled back.

“Bones- Bo- Leo, we can’t do this.” He didn’t often call Bones by his christian name, preferring his own nickname to anything else that Bones might be called. But sometimes the occasion called for it. “Not right now. Not like this. Not that I don’t want to, because I do. But I’d rather do it when you’re not outta your mind on alien sex pheromones.” He leaned up, pressed a kiss to Bones’ forehead, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss him again. “ _Fuck_.”

"Well if that's the case," Bones drawled in a way that was absolutely not sexy, nope, not at all, "You're gonna have to knock me out."

“Otherwise we’ll have sex?” Jim asked, kissing Bones’ forehead again before he got to his feet. He held out a hand. “It’s a tricky situation. Sex you probably won’t remember or putting you to sleep.” The thing was, he was genuinely torn. He held out a hand.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Bones muttered as he took Jim’s hand - and Jim drew him to his feet, waiting until Bones had kicked off his boots before he finished off speaking. 

“C’mon, Bones. You better at least be lying down.”

When Bones was sat on the upper edge of the bed as opposed to the lower where he had been before, Jim watched him for a moment, looking for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to climb in beside him and lose himself in the haze the other man seemed to be lost in, but then he couldn’t quite bring himself to. Felt too much like he’d be taking advantage, and Bones- Bones didn’t want that. Didn’t want him. Not really. Despite those messages. He was just homesick. He didn’t- He didn’t want Jim like that. This? This was all alien pheromones. 

He just needed to remember that.

He bit his lower lip as he turned away and crouched down to grab the medical kit that he knew Bones kept under his bed, having to crouch down to grab hold of it. He shifted, stretching his hand out underneath the bed, groping for the kit. 

“How far in did you shove this damn thing?” he asked with a grimace and a grunt, fingers latching onto the edge of the kit awkwardly, but it was taking him longer than anticipated to pull it out.

When he glanced up, he could see Bones’ eyes focused on him intently and he couldn’t help the full body shudder that rippled through him. He bit his lower lip, ignored the way his cheeks caught in a slight flush and he just shook his head a bit. “Fine, Bones, don’t answer me.” He tutted and arched an eyebrow. “Why’re you still sitting up? Lie down, doc, c’mon.” He gently put a hand on Bones’ shoulder, fingers of the other hand latched around the handle of the med kit. 

The non-responsive nature from the ordinarily full-of-backchat doctor was unnerving and Jim really didn’t like it. He’d always figured that Bones was the kind of lover who was talkative, who pretty much didn’t let there be silence in his bedroom, a litany of filth. He supposed his fantasy life was a little too rich and vivid to be appropriate, and he supposed he shouldn’t feel disappointed when his fantasy appeared to be untrue.

“Jes-“ Jim cut off when he felt lips against his skin - again, Bones was up in his space, face pressed against his neck and breathing him in like he was oxygen - this time against his pulse which, to Bones’ credit, shot up in speed, beating faster like it was trying to get Bones’ lips to notice and reward it for good fucking behaviour or something. 

Bones was in his space again, pressed against him and it was taking all of Jim’s self control not to just give into this. The hand that was suddenly against the back of his neck was warm and inviting and he could feel the callouses against the skin but no, he needed to focus. 

“Bones, I told you, if we’re gonna do this, you’re gonna be completely sober.” He leaned back a little, with great difficulty because- well, yeah- and forced himself to swallow past his own reaction. His body was humming and purring, desperately crying out for more of that touch, even though he knew he wouldn’t get it, wouldn't allow himself to. “Because I’m not having you forget spending a night with me getting all down and dirty and stuff.” 

He wet his lower lip again, flicking the medkit open with long fingers, enclosing his touch around the hypospray, even as lips moved up his arm and over his freckles and scars, small marks that Bones only recognised and knew about because of their friendship, even if he hadn’t told the other man the story of them.

At the press of Bones’ face against his neck, Jim let out a soft curse before he pulled back. “I did tell you to lie down, Bones. This ain’t gonna work if I sedate you whilst you’re making nice with my neck.” His voice was tight, low and a little rough because, well, it was Bones, and all the things Jim had wanted to do since the first time he saw the man on that shuttle seemed infinitely closer but he wouldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t do that to him. 

He kept a hand on Bones’ shoulder, using it to push the older man backwards, other hand - containing the hypo - shifted Bones’ legs so the guy was lying back on the bed and he perched on the side. 

“I don’t know how much of this you’ll remember when you’re not so amped up,” he said quietly, lifting to press the hypo against Bones’ neck. “But if you still wanna do this, you can come find me.” His lips twitched almost sadly in the corner as he pulled the lever and the hypo hissed its delivery of the sedative into Bones’ bloodstream. “Don’t fight it, I’ll wait ’til you fall asleep.”

Jim wet his lower lip and watched as Bones’ eyes slowly blinked open and closed until they shut properly and the man’s breathing evened out in something approaching sleep. The hypospray was left on the bedside table and Jim rather impulsively leaned forward, pressing his lips against Bones’ forehead again before he stood up.

He crossed over to Bones’ desk, pressed the comm button. “Captain Kirk to bridge.”

“Bridge here, Captain,” Spock replied impassively.

“Are those aliens off my ship and are we moving away from their space?” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

“Great. Good job. I want someone to do a sweep of the ship, make sure they’ve not left anything behind. Everyone who’s been in contact with them needs to get to medical, just for a check up.”

“Can I ask why, Captain?”

“It’ll be in my report, Commander. I’m not discussing it over an open channel.”

There was a momentary pause, Jim could almost see the bridge crew swapping looks, trying to work out what the latest gossip would be and it irritated him rather than amused him like normal.

“Very well. I look forward to reading your report, then.”

“No you don’t.” Jim muttered, “Kirk out.” He ended the communication, looked back at the sleeping form of his CMO and turned on his heel to leave the room. He’d spend that night in his own bed, he decided. And the following ones too. There was no point in- there was just no point. 

“Sleep well, Bones.”

*

“Captain’s Log, supplemental. We kicked the Arlathian delegates off our ship. Well. I say ‘we’. I mean me. I ordered it and my crew complied. If Starfleet has a problem with that, then they can take it up with me because I’m the one that told them to do it. And to cease all communications with their parliament. Until they learn to say ‘please’ and not try and assault a member of my crew-

“They took an interest in Dr McCoy. Manipulated him through the use of the pheromones they excrete, presumably to try and determine his potential as a mate. I’ve had the whole crew checked. No one else was affected anywhere near as much. I wonder if they weren’t just attracted to the way he looks. They kept saying something about how he smelt, too, so maybe their pheromones are more potent against some people than they are against others? I mean, they used them as some form of mind control; they had me walking out of sickbay and halfway to the bridge before I realised that wasn’t what I wanted to be doing.

“God only knows how much stuff they pumped into Bones. I’ve left him a comm to go see M’Benga when he wakes up, just to check all that stuff’s out of his system. Before you even think it, yes, I got checked out too. I’m fine.

“Well, fine is a relative term. I still have to take those pills else I die. But. That’s neither here nor there, is it.

“I’m just- Jesus, it was like- I’ve heard of sex pollen and stuff. But this was as close to the real thing as I think we’re ever going to see. I was thinking of looking up that planet, you know, the one which is reported to have sex pollen. Just out of curiosity. But I think I’ve changed my mind now. That looked _painful_. 

“I think I deserve some kind of reward or commendation for saying no. Ugh. Computer, delete last sentence.”

_Bloop_.

“I’ve informed the Federation and the Arlathians that the delegations are over, and when they learn to control their ambassadors and ask for what they want rather than trying to take it in a manner that certainly falls under ‘dubious consent’, we can consider talking to them again. But I’d strongly suggest keeping all delegations either done via video conference or in a space where the Arlathians can’t touch you. 

“Creepy glitterly bastards.

“I’m going to order Bones to see Dr Russell again anyway. Not that I think he should have stopped seeing her, but then again he did leave for a while. Not that they stopped talking, but that was probably in more of a friendly fashion than a professional one.

“For now though, I need to go back to the bridge and pick a new direction for us to head in. We’re heading back towards the neutral zone, without crossing into it. I want to see if there’s anything past it, so I figure if we just follow around the edges of the zone we can’t offend anyone and we won’t start a war.

“Well, this time anyway.”


	40. Stardate 2260.48

_Stardate 2260.48 - Twenty Six Days since Bones came back_

“Captain,” Adelaide said with a soft smile as Jim sat down on the couch that had recently housed another member of the senior command crew. “Thank you for agreeing to come and see me.” 

Jim lifted a shoulder, he had to come and see her every now and then, it was par for the course of being returned from the dead and having had a string of traumatic events happen in such a short space of time. The Federation needed to be sure that their Hero’s Hero-son wasn’t going to go crazy at any time soon and that he was still capable of running a ship. It irritated him more than he wanted to admit, that people still doubted him after everything he and his crew had achieved, because they weren’t just belittling his achievements, but those of his crew, the remarkable people that - for some reason unknown to him - were loyal as anything and would follow him to the ends of the universe. 

“Always happy to come see you, Red, you know that.” He winked and leaned back into the cushions, arms outstretched over the back, legs in front of him, claiming the space as his own, trying to feel more comfortable. He knew Adelaide recognised it for what it was, Jim peacocking, bullshitting his way through this as much as he did anything else. “So what do you wanna talk to me about?”

Adelaide folded her hands in her lap. “I’d like to talk to you about the A-“

“The Arlathians, yeah, I figured as much. I didn’t shoot them or punch them so I think I did okay considering I wanted to do that and then some.” His fingers flexed in the cushions. How come she got a big fluffy couch in her office? Jim wanted one. Maybe he’d put the request through requisitions, get himself a comfortable couch like this in his ready room instead of the boring black one that wasn’t all that comfortable to sit on. Maybe that was because he was meant to be spending more time on the bridge or at the desk rather than on the couch, thinking about all the things that he would rather be doing than reading reports and requisitions and crew manifests blah blah blah…

“I’d specifically like to discuss what happened with Doctor McCoy, Jim.” 

His eyes cut to her, sharp as a blade and they narrowed in the corners. His lips pressed together and his jaw ticked, that dark, ugly jealousy swirling in the back of his mind when he thought about them with their ridiculously long and sparkly hands over Bones, what they’d been intending to do with him, to him, probably several times over… 

“I don’t want to talk about that, _Doctor_ , so can we get back to how well behaved I was in not shooting those glittery bitches?”

“No,” Adelaide said firmly. “Jim we need to talk about this. You reacted instinctively, which is a good thing and sets you apart from the other Starfleet captains though you are going to need to learn to curb that. There are too many people who still want to see you fail." She wet her lower lip. "I don't think what you did was wrong but at the same time now the aftermath is damaging your relationship with a vital member of your command crew. You still haven’t forgiven him for his departure in the first place, then you go and possessively throw some aliens off the ship for taking an interest in him. Now you’re avoiding him - don’t lie, I know you are because you’ve not been sleeping properly, you’ve got that twitchy, caffeinated look about you - and that’s just going to damage your friendship with him beyond all recompense. Furthermore, anything more you might ever hope to achieve is rapidly slipping away from you, Jim. 

“You did the right thing in rejecting his advances at the time. But now you’re continuing to reject him and how much longer do you think he can take that before he decides that pursuing you is only going to keep hurting him?” 

Jim met her dark eyes with his own and he hated that she was right, hated that he felt like he was being told off by his own crew member, someone who he did consider a friend (for the most part as long as he didn’t think about that time in the Academy when she and Bones were a couple). 

“Because it’s so damn easy to just forgive. I’m sorry I’m not a fucking saint like you, Adelaide, but I’m pissed as all hell that he left me here when he’d promised he wouldn’t do and no amount of regretting it or explanatory holos or awkward conversations is gonna make that better. I get it, I get why he left. I appreciate it, even, but he should have just-“ Jim cut himself off with an exasperated exhalation and got to his feet, pacing back and forth. 

Adelaide just watched him calmly. 

“You don’t get to lecture me on this, Adelaide, just because it all fell into place for you with your best friend and all fairytale romance and shit- That’s all well and good for other people but I don’t- I can’t-“ He sat down on the edge of the couch again, smaller this time, hunched forward with his hands over his eyes. Childishly wishing that perhaps if he wasn’t looking, if he couldn’t see it, then everything would just be okay. “I can’t do that. I can’t- I break everything I touch, Adelaide. All the good things in my life, I just- I just _ruin_ and Bones deserves better than that.” He looked up at her, trusting her that she’d keep this confidential. “He deserves better than me. We both know it deep down, he just hasn’t worked it out yet.”

Adelaide leaned forward, touched Jim’s knee, squeezed once.

“You really ought to let him be the judge of that.”


	41. Stardate 2260.52

_Stardate 2260.52 - Thirty Days since Bones came back_

If Jim had been ruminating extensively on what Adelaide had said to him, he certainly wasn’t letting it show. Why would he? It wasn’t like he was worried about anything, it wasn’t like her words about letting Bones be the one to make a decision as to Jim’s worthiness as a potential partner had an impact. Jim was above such things. But, but if he had been ruminating on them, then he would have come to some interesting conclusions. As he sat in his room, idly flicking through his PADD but not actually reading anything that was on the display, he thought about what he would have determined if - _if_ \- he had been ruminating on Adelaide’s statement (which he hadn’t been).

Point number 1: Bones is hot. Super hot. Hot and competent and talented and just super hot. That kind of hotness would be distracting if he knew he could have sex with it almost any time he wanted to.

Point number 2: Sex on tap. Pretty much. There was nothing wrong with that.

Point number 3: Maybe he’d lay off on the hyposprays…

Point number 4: Don’t be ridiculous, he wouldn’t do that. He’d probably worry more. 

Point number 5: Georgia is where Satan goes for his summer vacations because the weather’s hotter than Hell. If they did this… thing, then they’d have to go to Georgia at some point and Jim might melt. That wouldn’t be good.

Point number 6: Sex on tap. Pretty much. Still nothing wrong with that. 

Point number 7: Bones was an all or nothing kind of guy. Intense, that was a good thing. So was Jim. But Bones was the kind of intense that it might get in the way if Jim was to go do something stupid like throw himself in front of a phaser blast for an Ensign. 

Point number 8: Directly following on from point number seven; Bones was a consummate professional. As such, he would never allow his personal feelings to affect what he was doing which was why it had been such a stupid fucking decision for him to leave in the first place. So when he was all healed up from whatever stupid thing he’d done Bones would tear him a new one in the privacy of their bedroom with some thank-god-you’re-alive-you-idiot sex. Hm. Not such a bad thing.

Point number 9: Jim was pretty sure Bones didn’t share, which was cool by him, he’d always figured that if Bones had wanted some kind of relationship with him, it would have been monogamous. The idea didn’t scare him as much as he thought it probably should do, considering it meant sex with one person for the rest of his life.

Point number 10: Forever is an awfully long time. But then when he really thought about it, he didn’t really feel like forever is long enough. What was scary was that it wasn't really a scary thought at all.

Not that he’d been thinking about it or anything.

Definitely not.


	42. Stardate 2260.53

_Stardate 2260.53 - Thirty One Days since Bones came back_

_0300._

It used to be called the Witching Hour. Now it was just the hour that Jim woke, without fail, in a cold sweat dreaming of dusty barren lands, death and destruction and the Enterprise and her crew falling to their doom, burning up and bodies screaming as they fell, unable to same them all, unable to save _Bones_ , just like Sam, just like the other kids on Tarsus IV, just like the people on the Farragut and the Mayflower and the Valiant and all the other ships that were destroyed by Nero because he hadn’t been- 

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, he knew for a fact everything that Frank had ever said to him had been right. And he knew that each time that man had raised a hand to him, it had been his fault and he’d deserved it. It didn’t mean he hated him any less, but- But Frank had probably been disciplining him in the only way he knew how. Trying to curb the wild child who self destructed more beautifully than his father with less purpose.

He was on his feet, heading to Bones’ room before he even knew what he was doing. Their shifts had finally fallen back into alignment, both were scheduled for their rota’d day off so Jim knew that Bones would at least sleep in until 0800, which meant he could get a little bit of proper sleep before he needed to sneak away. 

He’d not done this for a few days, not since the incident that he’d secretly named ‘The-One-Where-Bones-Got-Pheromone’d’. Partly because he knew how embarrassed Bones would have been, and partly because he- God, he’d wanted to just give in and give Bones what he’d wanted, but he’d left an out, an opening. He’d said that if he’d wanted it, he could have come to find him and considering several days had passed and Bones still hadn’t come for him, then- he supposed he’d also been taking the time to deal with the rejection. 

Keying in the code for Bones’ door, he slipped inside, crawled under the sheets and just slept.

_0732._

He woke to the weight of a hand against his hip. At some time in the night he’d moved closer to Bones, and the guy’s hand was on his hip, touch light but present and branding Jim through his black t-shirt like a poker. He wet his lower lip and glaned at the clock. Damn, he’d overslept. He needed to get going. 

A cursory glance over his shoulder indicated that Bones was lying on his back, just touching Jim as if reassuring himself the younger man was still there. He resisted the urge to turn over, curl up in Bones and hide himself there until the world made sense but he couldn’t. 

If Bones wanted that, well, Jim needed Bones to tell him. Or show him. And maybe he was afraid of taking that step himself because he knew he wasn’t good enough. He knew that, he knew he wasn’t good enough for Bones and he supposed never taking the chance and never getting rejected was better than doing so and fucking up the friendship he couldn’t function without and had already screwed up so badly so many times that the other half of the friendship _left_.

He reached down, curling his fingers briefly around Bones’ before lifting that hand, carefully extracting himself from the grip. His pulse was hammering, the touch had set his nerves alight and his body had definitely enjoyed the contact. He needed to take five to calm himself down because there was no way he could walk to his room with any dignity (not that he had much left when it came to Bones) so obviously suffering from the effects of Bones’ touch.

He pushed himself upright, into a seated position and didn’t look back at Bones, just raked his fingers through his hair, breathing through his nose. C’mon, Jim, pull it together. Get up. Walk out. Go back to your room, take a shower and deal with yourself there. Planting his hands on the bed, he nodded to himself, intending to get up, body tensed to do so.

“An' where do you think you're going?" a soft voice drawled from behind him and Jim’s eyes darted to the chronometer, trying to work out just how long he’d been sat there trying to will his body to behave. Bones sounded delectable, all sleepy soft and drawling and just- it wasn’t helping Jim’s desire to leave.

“How come you’re awake?” he asked instead of answering, not looking over his shoulder for a few long moments before he turned his head and really wished he hadn’t. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying - but knowing he never would be able - to not commit to memory the sight of Bones first thing in the morning, sleep-soft and rumpled, before he’d put himself together for the rest of the world to see. Soft and vulnerable in a way he’d never seen before, even though he’d woken up with Bones hundreds of times. “’s not like you gotta get to sickbay.”

The lack of answer bothered him, so when it seemed there wasn’t one forthcoming, he made a move to turn around again when suddenly there were hands on his face, turning his head forcing him to have to twist, the angle was awkward which instantly put him on the weaker foot as far as control of the kiss went. He let out a muffled sound against Bones’ lips as their mouths met and he shifted, a twisting of his hips and movement of his legs that gave away a certain degree of flexibility. 

The kiss was like a slow burn and Jim lifted the hand that wasn’t bracing his weight on the bed. He would have fisted it in the shirt Bones was wearing, but Bones wasn’t wearing one so instead his hand touched warm skin, not fevered, just warm, touch skating down a well defined chest to twist in the fabric that covered Bones’ hip. 

He broke the kiss to breathe, needing to collect his swirling thoughts because Bones had just kissed him. He looked at the doctor for a long moment, like he was trying to puzzle him out, that same intense look he gave a particularly difficult, challenging puzzle, though his tongue darted out over his lower lip and he didn’t let go. He could feel the pressure of fingers in his hair, and God he just- 

“Bones-“ he started, not even sure how he wanted to finish that except with more kissing. So he leaned forward, ducked his head a little and kissed Bones again, teeth catching on the other man’s lower lip gently, letting the kiss say all the things Jim knew he couldn’t (and more, probably). As they kissed again, Bones made a sound, low in the back of his throat that was sexy and needy and just perfect and Jim felt overwhelmed by just the _kiss_ , by the focus and the intensity that was communicated by the kiss alone. Bones soon broke away but only so his mouth could begin a slow deliberate movement along Jim's jaw, teeth latching on. Jim’s breath hitched with each brush of teeth, tipping his head and curling his fingers in the fabric of the sheets that covered the matress, bunching it up underneath his fingers.

"Jim," he murmured thickly before his mouth slid towards Jim’s neck. "Always thought you'd taste pretty good but I think I may have underestimated just how good." And as if proving his point he took this moment to bite down on the juncture where Jim's neck met his shoulder and Jim gasped in a breath, shuddering along with a bit off groan as his eyes rolled back a little. 

“ _Always thought_ , huh, Bones?” he asked, trying to tease the other man to get a little bit of control back because already he felt like he wasn’t the one running this show and that wasn’t how he did things. He adjusted how he was sitting, ignoring the heat that was pooling in his stomach, distractingly so, to run his fingers up over Bones’ bare chest, blunted nails and fingers raking through the dark strands of Bones’ hair to try and draw him back for another kiss. “Glad I don’t disappoint.”

He chuckled against Bones’ lips as the kissing was happening again and Jim had to rethink what his favourite things were when he was pulled closer, able to feel the rippling muscles underneath his hands as he was all but yanked forward, having to rapidly adjust how he was sitting on the bed so that he wouldn’t topple over. He’d ended up that he was now, pretty much, straddling one of Bones’ thighs, already embarrassingly turned on by the whole situation. He wet his lower lip when they broke briefly for air again and experimentally rocked his lower body forward, sitting in such a way that his knee was rather strategically placed. He bit back on his own groan as he did, relishing in the sound of Bones’ pleasure as it rumbled against his lips.

He could feel Bones’ hands on him like a brand, burning him through the thin fabric of his black regulation t-shirt but he was glad he had it on. Bones’ skin was almost flawless save for a few freckles and what looked like kiddy scars. He had Miss Ellie to look out for him; she wouldn’t have let her boy get scarred up and restrict access to things like dermal regenerators. And he could see the care that Bones’ family had for him. He felt a bit jealous, but awed at the same time as he let his hands wander over the exposed skin, down the length of Bones’ arms before he pushed up over his shoulders, skating down his sides, fingers and touch exploring to try and learn Bones’ body.

“Strong and silent type, huh?” he asked, because Jim always had to fill the silence. “That’s still surprising to me, I guess, figured you’d be talker.” He wasn’t disappointed, more surprised.

"You really have no idea," Bones murmured as his hands skated over Jim's side and he shifted his knee just to get the same sound out of Jim as he'd made before. Jim’s words - if he had any to say, were lost in the groan that followed the movement of Bones’ knee. "I ain't talking 'cause I'm busy gettin' to know you." He ducked his head, sealing his lips over Jim's neck again, this time biting down hard enough to leave a slight mark behind. Jim’s eyes rolled again and his fingers flexed against Bones’ hip where they’d stilled when those lips had moved again. "Already figured out you've got a sensitive neck an' m'taking my time to make sure you feel really fucking good. So good you won't want nobody else but me touching you."

And with that, Jim found himself pushed backwards into the bed until he was straddled by the other man, fingers dragging fingers over his sides before they curled in the material of his t-shirt. Jim arched up into the touches but fuck if he didn’t know what he was doing because he was being straddled and how the hell had he ended up on the bottom here? And he didn’t want the shirt to come off sort of because he wasn’t perfect like Bones. 

"This needs to come the fuck off 'cause I sure as shit don't have enough of you to explore." Bones pushed the fabric upwards before following the movement with his mouth and underneath the ministrations, Jim’s stomach tensed, hips twitching a little as he tried to just stop Bones from taking his time because Jim didn’t do patient or slow, he did fast and hard and nownownownow _now_ because that was all he’d ever known.

“I’ll take it off, but you gotta promise you won’t tease,” Jim said, proud that his voice even managed to sound halfway steady even though each time Bones breathed there was beautiful pressure and he just wanted to rock up again and- He sat up a little, effectively stopping the path of Bones’ lips, hesitating for barely a moment before he was just still, allowing for hands - _hands_ , not lips - to remove his t-shirt. “You gonna blow my mind, Bones?” he asked with a grin, cocky even now.

"Teasing is half the fun," Bones muttered with a rough timbre to his voice, a slow husky drawl which reverberated across Jim's skin as he bit, sucked and curled his tongue before finally sitting back on his heels when Jim gave permission for that t-shirt to be removed.

Bones did this but not before he rolled his hips and exerted just the right amount of pressure against Jim’s groin and _holymotherfuck_. Jim’s eyes fluttered shut, hips twitching upwards in reaction because fuck- that slight roll of Bones’ hips sent sparks shooting up his spine. His hands had dropped back to the bed after the shirt had been pulled off his back, palms flat and elbows locked to support him but when Bones moved, his arms sort of buckled a little and he had to catch himself before he just fell backwards. 

He was about to say something, but then he was being kissed again, tongue and lips and teeth and it was all Jim could do to kiss back, tensing his stomach to keep himself upright as he buried his fingers in Bones’ hair, giving as good as he got, teeth catching on a lower lip and tugging, soothing the sting with his own tongue as his fingers curled around short strands. He wasn’t giving up easily, and even though it caused the kiss to falter slightly, he rocked his hips up again, groaning against the older man’s mouth.

"An' for the record," Bones murmured against Jim’s lips, voice low and gravelly and so fucking filthy that Jim just sort of wanted to let the man have his way with him. "I fully intend on blowing your mind. Hell, I even intend blowing you if given the opportunity. Gonna wrap my mouth around you and take you to pleasure and beyond, kid."

He bared his teeth in a feral grin which was enough to make Jim’s heart start racing at a ridiculous speed (was that even healthy? Was it bad for you to have your heart beating so goddamn fast?) because- Fuck, he’d never seen that sort of expression on Bones’ face before and it was intoxicating. He started to say something, managing to just about say Bones’ name before there were kisses being peppered down his chest and his arms gave out, meaning he was lying back on the bed properly, torso bared for Bones’ lips to peruse, ignoring his own twisting discomfort when lips brushed over imperfect skin over and over.

When those lips reached his hips, Jim’s fingers twisted in the sheets at the close of teeth, the hot press of a mouth claiming and marking him, a possessive bite that had a shudder rippling through his body. “Fuck- Bones-“ he arched up into the bite, feeling a tongue swirling over the skin, leaving a mark he knew he’d be wearing for days if he didn’t get it with a dermal. His body bucked up a little, hands reaching out, sliding up the deceptively muscular arms, touch dragging over the skin to push through that already mussed hair, messing the strands up more just because apparently he could do that now. 

“Can’t you just-“ Jim started having to bite on the inside of his lip to stop himself from making a very unsexy needy sound at the thought of Bones’ lips in places he’d barely let himself think about before for the sake of his own sanity. “Can’t you just- _fuck_ \- Where’d you learn to talk like that?” Yep, that was it, talk back, regain a bit of the control because fuck if Bones wasn’t starting to take him apart bit by fucking bit. They hadn’t even done anything yet.

"There's a lot 'bout me that you don't know," Bones shared in a low rumble. Jim felt like he could feel the man’s voice reverberating through his bones, heh, Bones. Jesus, _Bones_ … “Like how I intend on taking you apart bit by bit, curl my tongue in places and use my mouth in all the ways you've never thought me capable." And as if to prove his point he caught the edge of Jim's underwear with the tip of one finger, pulling on it before letting the elastic snap back into place with a sharp sting. The simple movement sent another surge through Jim’s body, feeling like his nerve endings had been set alight all in one go and fuck if he thought he’d had good sex before, he’d never understood the purpose of foreplay on himself; he always made his lovers feel good, drove them crazy. Now he maybe understood why they got frustrated with him when he worked them to a point before giving them what they wanted. But they were more patient with him. Hell, anyone was more patient than Jim when he wanted sex.

He groaned again, eyes fluttering and fingers tightening in Bones’ hair when teeth moved over the spot his underwear had snapped back to. His hips lifted when fingers pulled down on the underwear, too turned on to feel embarrassed at how fucking needy he sounded.

"M'thinking m'gonna start slow, so slow you're gonna be beggin' for more by the time I'm done. Gonna make you forget your own name, Jim." Jim lifted his eyes to meet Bones’, the lust swirling in the hazel depths along with something else that he didn’t want to name, not right now so he looked away, lower lip already kiss-swollen between his teeth because he couldn’t- He couldn’t look. 

“I don’t beg, Bones,” Jim muttered tightly, tugging on the man’s hair a little, because he didn’t, he had more pride than that. And no one took the time to really tear him to pieces and he never did let them. So even letting Bones get this far was something he’d never thought he’d let anyone do. It was oddly fitting, he supposed, that it was Bones doing this to him. “Are you gonna-“ he lifted his hips again to let his underwear be pulled free, having sort of been awkward when Bones had mentioned begging, ignoring the sudden surge of embarrassment that came over him. He never felt embarrassed, but he supposed it was Bones and the man was just looking at him. Jim wondered what he was thinking behind those dark eyes as he just took Jim in, and Jim did his best not to squirm under the scrutiny. “Promises, promises. When’re we getting to the good stuff?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrow, having gained enough composure to look up at Bones and grin, even though his eyes were huge and pupils blown, flush high on his cheeks and already the faint beading of sweat across his forehead and temples. 

"Mmm, you just wait an' see," Bones said, sounding confident in a way Jim had never heard before, which was just plain sexy. He’d never let himself - well, he’d tried to never let himself - dwell on the sexy drawl and husky tone Bones’ voice took when he was annoyed or first thing in the morning, but the tone his voice had now, whiskey rough and pure filth had Jim’s heart racing never mind the touches against him. 

His legs parted embarrassingly easy when Bones’ lips moved along the inside of his thigh, back arching in surprise when teeth closed over the sensitive skin high up, not close enough and yet too close to his aching cock, and the sensation surprised him so much he nearly flinched away, unhappy that Bones had moved so far away that he couldn’t touch him properly, and those fucking hands kept moving, so it wasn’t even like he could grab one of those fucking hands and just hold on. 

"Oh, we're gettin' there," Bones muttered roughly against Jim's skin, lips moving over the sensitive skin and fuck if it wasn’t taking all of his self control to just demand that Bones _fuck him already_. "But I ain't rushing nothin' not when I've been thinking 'bout this for as long as I can remember." Then there was a hand moving over his hip, tongue curling and he dropped his hands, spreading his arms out over the bed and twisting his fingers in the sheets as he tensed, surprised at the heat that surrounded him - _finally_ \- as he stopped his hips from bucking upwards into it. 

He groaned Bones’ nickname again, long and low, the sound torn from his chest, ragged and raw, as Bones’ mouth surrounded him completely and he squeezed his eyes closed after glancing down and seeing the indecent sight and realising if he watched, he’d just lose his grip on himself and come embarrassingly quickly (even more embarrassingly so than how he was conducting himself). He wet his lower lip, head pressed into the pillows like he could disappear into them if he just tried hard enough. 

Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, Jim’s fingers tapped against the sheets, resisting the urge to reach down, to fuck upwards, to keen for just _more_. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain some semblance of control over himself. Shit. He was having difficulties, especially when Bones made noises and it just- Jim saw sparks behind his eyes he was closing them so tight. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a blow job before, but there was just something about this one that separated it from all others, put it on a whole new level when Bones moved and curled his tongue around the head. 

His movements were agonisingly slow, and it was peppered with tight “ _Fuck’s sake, Bones-_ ” as the good Doctor took the time to map the entire length, pausing as he reached the base before giving a slow indecent movement of his mouth which made Jim keen in a rather embarrassing fashion, hips straining against those hands and where they were holding him still. When there was a rhythm established, Jim’s hips twitched in time with the gentle ministrations from those thumbs against his skin, feeling branded in more ways than one by the press of nails against him as his hips lifted, arching into the warmth and pressandcurlholy _fuck_ of that tongue against him.

He opened his eyes briefly, looked at the grey ceiling of Bones’ quarters and then lifted his arm, covering his eyes with his forearm, turning his face into his bicep as he felt pressure building at the base of his spine, breath already coming in shorter, sharper gasps, ragged already just from the movements of Bones’ mouth. 

“C’mon-“ he moaned because fuck if he didn’t want to be fucked right the fuck now because he was so fucking close- His voice had a thread to it, a desperation and wanton need he’d never allowed to creep into it before and he felt a little mortified at how desperate he really was for this. His other hand was still fisted in the sheets, arm taut, muscles at attention as his white-knuckled grip unsettled the regulation bedding. “Bones- BonesBones-“

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting because then Bones did this _thing_ and suddenly Jim felt himself hitting the back of the doctor’s throat and fuck Bones had better control over his gag reflex than Jim did and fuck that was sexy. His hips moved in a slightly less ordered rhythm, more ragged in time with the shuddering breaths he was forcing into his lungs. 

“ _Bones_ ,” he groaned again, the words a long, drawn out moan on the vowels as his hips twitched and jerked up wards, breath catching with each curl of that tongue against him and he could feel that pressure building, coiling in his spine and in his balls and fuck if he wasn’t close. He felt like he’d been teetering on the edge since Bones opened his mouth and all that dirty talk had slipped free. 

He was only still together out of sheer fucking will alone and even that was beginning to fail him. He started mumbling Bones’ name, both nickname and real - shortened to Leo - which was hitched and desperate as his hips fucked upwards into that warm wet heat in shorter and shorter increments, faster as that tongue and those hands just tore him to shreds, sliding over his hips and pressing down against the mark that indelibly branded him as _Bones’_.

He came with barely any warning and a strangled, cut off yell of Bones’ name, hiding his face in his bicep again, biting at his own arm like that would keep him quiet (it didn’t) and like that would stop him from breaking open completely (it wouldn’t) as his orgasm rushed over him like a tidal wave.

"Anybody ever tell you," Bones drawled as he crawled his way back up Jim's body and sealed his mouth over his in a searing kiss, Jim was too fucked out to do much other than kiss back, burying his fingers in Bones’ hair, licking the taste of himself out of the other man’s mouth. He’d never done that before, understood the pleasure in tasting yourself when kissing someone else, but there was something tantalising about how the tastes mingled, how he could still taste Bones underneath himself. “How fuckin' hot you are when you come?"

“’s not like I do a lot of talking,” Jim muttered breathlessly against Bones’ lips, reacting instinctively to Bones’ touches, almost letting the man move him around and change how he was lying without even thinking about it. His eyes fluttered a little. “Mostly the-“

"Love the way you say my name when you're all fucked out an' breaking open." Bones’ words were dripping with sex and sensuality, and Jim gasped when he felt teeth closing around the sensitive skin of his earlobe. 

“‘m not fucked out yet, Bones,” Jim managed hoarsely, through gritted teeth because his body was pretty much telling him he was ready for round two _now_ and he really didn’t want to have to ask, so he let his touch slide down to Bones’ waist where those sleeping pants were sitting snug against his skin and, after less than a second’s hesitation, he pushed his fingers underneath the band, one hand slipping inside to cup Bones’ backside, the other hand curling around Bones, turning his head slightly to bite down at the curve of Bones’ neck at the same time as his hand moved slowly, twisting ever so slightly when his touch reached the head. This he knew how to do, take back the control, make someone else feel good.

He let out another soft sound, almost a purr as he licked and sucked at the spot he’d just bitten, darkening the mark that was as much a branding as it was a retort for the marks that had been littered all over his own body. “Because there’s not been any fucking.” He wanted to take Bones apart the same way that he’d been taken apart, to wrangle some semblance of his dignity back. He was rewarded with a low sound of appreciation at the movement of his hand, ignoring the way that the raspy chuckle against his ear made him shudder.

"You got a point there," Bones shared against Jim's ear before his hips eased into the pace Jim was setting, returning the kiss was it was given, thumb teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves even as the kiss broke. 

Bones was talking again, how was he talking?

"'Cause I can guarantee you one thing, Jim." Bones’ voice was huskier, heavier with complete need and want which was what he wanted, but the fact that the man was still talking meant that Jim adjusted the position of his hand, adding a slight twist of his wrist and the brush of his thumb against those nerves each time his hand moved up. "When it comes to the fucking you are sure as hell gonna remember it." 

“Promises, promises, Bones,” Jim purred against Bones’ mouth as best he could when his lower lip was locked in the vice of Bones’ teeth, kissing back and challenging the doctor for dominance of the kiss with each movement, speeding up the pace of his hand and then slowing it down again, determined and focused on making Bones feel as good as he’d made him feel. He broke the kiss again, lifting his head to suck another mark against the curve of Bones’ shoulder, nipping at the purpling skin.

"Ain't an empty one if you can follow through," Bones mumbled after having disengaged his teeth - and Jim was proud that he hadn’t groaned at the biting because it didn’t get any less hot the more that it happened - and sliding a thumb over the rapidly bruising skin. His hand sped up a little more, moving in time with the pistoning of Bones’ hips, enjoying the sound of his name being drawled from that mouth, thick as molasses accent blurring the words and dragging the vowels out. 

“Still gotta prove that to me, Leo,” he breathed hotly as Bones gripped at him, hands moving restlessly over Jim’s skin and, to his credit he only stiffened once when Bones’ thumb brushed over the scar that wrapped over his lower ribs on his left side. He kept moving as Bones’ orgasm hit him and he just tilted his head and watched the expressions play over the man’s face, smiling up as he worked Bones through the aftershocks and then leaned up to press a kiss against his lips. 

He withdrew his hand and considered wiping it off on the sheets (truth be told he hated the taste of semen) but since Bones had fucking swallowed, he supposed he should return the favour in kind, as it were. That and if they slept after this, he didn’t want to be stuck on the sticky side. 

Jim smiled into the kiss as Bones chuckled against his mouth, fingers twisting clean on the sheets (because fuck it, small steps, Jim, semen still tasted fucking foul, no matter whose it was) before his touch ran up to Bones’ hair again, absolutely not getting turned on by the possessive turn in the kiss, the dominating way that Bones was just taking control. Jim was always the one in control, so why was he getting such a thrill when he felt those hands pushing his legs further apart, spreading him out like Bones was going to be the one doing the fucking?

_Holy fuck_ , that was a thought and a half and Jim sort of groaned at the images his mind was conjuring even before Bones had opened his mouth. The idea of Bones pushing into him, stretching him and fucking him within an inch of his sanity- dominating and topping with that dirty mouth drawling a litany of filth.

"Question is," Bones muttered gruffly as he caught Jim's lower lip with his teeth, and Jim barely had time to focus on what he was saying because he was busy thinking about Bones fucking him into the mattress when the other man continued talking. "Who is fucking who?" Lips were on his ear again and Jim’s eyes rolled, body already beginning to respond again to the movement of the bastard’s tongue and teeth. “See I have this fantasy." The words were said slowly, deeply and with full drawl on each and everyone. His accent should be outlawed. That was going to be Jim’s first act when this was all over. He was going to ban that Southern drawl from the bridge because he’d never get any work done.

Maybe he’d just ban Bones from talking because fuck if that man didn’t have a filthy mouth.

"It involves me fucking you to within an inch of your life," Bones purred as he dragged his fingers around, letting them skate along until one hand cupped Jim's backside. Jim’s hips lifted in response, and when the hell had he let someone manhandle him so much? But it was Bones, and that made all the difference because as much as he didn’t want to because Bones had _left_ , Jim trusted him. Jim trusted him more than he’d trusted anyone in such a long time so it was right, that if anyone was to do this, if he was to take this step with anyone, that it be Bones. His Bones. "So much so that you feel it for days after an' each time you sit in that fancy Captain's chair of yours all you can think 'bout is me inside of you."

And that trust was evident in the big blue eyes, dark with lust and wanton need as he tugged Bones’ head back via the grip on his hair. “You wanna fuck me so hard I can’t concentrate, Bones?” he asked, unable to shake the tremor in his voice, unable to disguise the fact that fuck, fuck yes, yes he wanted that. He wanted that and more because the things that just that voice was doing to him were overwhelming, that mouth and those hands… “You wanna know that when I’m sat in that chair, talking to some delegate, all I’m thinking about is you fucking me into this bed?” His eyebrow twitched, knowing full well he’d lost control of this, and he was strangely okay with that. Hell, it was more of a turn on than any of the sex he’d had since he started at the Academy, and he’d had a lot of sex. 

"Exactly," Bones rumbled against Jim's mouth as he slid between Jim's legs, ignoring the teasing that Jim was doing which was probably a good thing because Jim groaned when those fingers tightened on his ass, whole body feeling oversensitive. "I wanna fuck you so hard that you ain't never gonna be able to forget the way I feel inside of you." 

“You think you’re up to the task, old man?” he challenged, and in hindsight as soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew that he’d regret saying them (only not really). “Since I’m pretty sure you said I’d be begging and, well, I told you, I don’t beg.” His lip twitched again, a lusty challenge if ever he’d issued one. If anyone could reduce him to begging to be fucked, it was Bones. 

Bones’ touch dragged over the inside of Jim's thighs again before cupping his backside with both hands, pulling him that much closer until sure enough they were pressed against one another. It caused him to groan against Jim's mouth. "Bet you feel good," he purred as his mouth once again ventured south, sucking a mark into Jim's collarbone, brazenly ignoring Jim’s comments about him being an old man. "So fuckin' good."

For all of Jim’s cockiness, he’d never let any man do this to him before, never let anyone close enough to take him apart and take the reigns as it were. He felt a sudden surge of nervousness ripple through him and he swallowed past it because he wanted this, he really did, and he wasn’t about to let a little thing like inexperience screw it up for him. 

“Quit thinking about it and just do it then,” he muttered impatiently, blunted nails dragging through Bones’ hair, against his scalp. “Don’t you wanna know what it feels like? ‘m right here, Bones.” He shuddered at the bruising mark on his collarbone, letting his other hand drift down Bones’ body, frowning when he reached Bones’ waist. “Man, why are you still wearing your underwear? Get it off, c’mon, that’s not f-fair.”

"You want it off," Bones muttered against Jim's neck. "Then take it off, you've got hands. 'Less I pin them to the bed, but that'll come later." And with his teeth bared he eased his hand over Jim's backside before sliding his fingers along the space between one cheek and the other, lightly pressing down and Jim reacted almost instantly, surprise and the weirdest sense of panic before he calmed himself down and lifted his head to just look at the curve of Bones’ jaw, letting that just calm him down. He knew it’d feel good; hell, he’d screwed enough guys to know how good it felt, but that was always different because he was the one doing the fucking. Never the one being fucked.

But, he kept thinking, if anyone was going to fuck him, it’d be Leonard McCoy. Bones. His Bones.

"Gonna make you feel good," he mumbled against Jim's ear as he took it in his mouth again. "So fuckin' good." And in slipped a thumb - shit, that- there- fuck- but then he was being caught in a slow kiss and he could just return it, hips torn between pulling away and pressing down. Jim settled for trying to keep them still, not analysing what he could feel through the kiss because in all honesty, it scared him the depth of feeling in this. Sex was never meant to be about more for him that just feeling good, that wasn’t how he did things, people never wanted that from him, they just wanted the quick fuck and to be done with it. To say they’d been able to sleep with Cadet Kirk, the infamous Cadet Kirk, and then with Captain James T Kirk, the famous Captain Kirk who saved Earth, not once, but twice. 

“I don’t doubt it, Bones,” he breathed, deciding not to tell Bones that this was his first time bottoming, wouldn’t let inexperience ruin it, didn’t want Bones to treat him like glass because fuck if that was what he wanted. “So c’mon, fuck me already.”

"In good time, kid," Bones shot back with a grin as he ran his lips over Jim's jaw. "Ain't nobody ever taken the time with you before? Pity that 'cause they missed out on seeing how fucking beautiful you are." 

As he was busy peppering kisses on Jim's skin and murmuring thick indecent things his thumb eased that much further in before it was joined by a second finger, spreading and moving. Jim could feel it, but each time he thought he would focus on the burning sensation of being stretched, Bones’ teeth were against his skin, distracting him. 

"'Cause you really fucking are," Bones murmured as he reached around to claim Jim's wrist in his hand, pressing the other man's hand into the bed before he ran his lips over his arm, biting down gently as a third finger slid in.

Jim’s heartrate sped up further when his hand was immobilised, thankfully he still had his other one and that one slid up and down the length of Bones’ back, squeezing his backside before letting his touch lift again, settling at the back of Bones’ neck, just holding on.

“‘m not beautiful, Bones,” he muttered uncomfortably, because he wasn’t. He was scarred and imperfect and a fuck up, blind luck had got him where he was today and a lot of people had died so he could live. He couldn’t dwell too much on the negative, though because he could feel the pressure of fingers pressing inside him, stretching him open, a sort of burning sensation that wasn’t unpleasant (wasn’t the nicest thing either, he wasn’t about to lie) but would take some getting used to. 

He took in a slow breath, utilising some of that legendary willpower to relax his lower body against what it was perceiving as an invasion. “Got any lube?” he asked, lifting his head to kiss Bones’ jaw, teeth catching on the curve. From where they were, he could reach the bedside table by just stretching his arms and twisting his hand. If it was in there, he’d be able to get it. He didn’t want Bones to move, though, his hips rocked down a little against those fingers, knowing it would get better because he’d told enough people that in his time. 

"Yeah, you are," Bones muttered with a certainty to his voice that left no room for question, it was the same tone he got when he was doctoring. "Top drawer," he answered a moment later, his voice huskier than it was a moment before. Jim muttered a sulky ‘I’m not’ before he was reaching for the top draw, body stretching as he twisted a little to get it. 

“‘m also clean, but ‘m guessing y-ngh- you already know that.”

He could feel the movement of Bones’ fingers, spreading and stretching and he rocked his hips down again, impatient and the movement was exaggerated when he arched his back into the pressure against his nipple, feeling lips and teeth press against it and _fuck_.

“Bones,” he gritted out, pushing the lube down the bed, “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” he asked, straining against the hand that was holding him down against the bed, even if the fact that his hand was sort of restrained was really sexy. His mind decided to flash an image of himself tied to the headboard, hands above his head and he groaned at the imagery, the idea of being pretty much helpless and at Bones’ mercy just sent his mind spinning in a direction he had trouble pulling it back from. He rocked down again, trying to just do something to make the man get a fucking move on.

"I ain't fucking you until I'm sure you're good an' ready," Bones growled as he added a fourth finger, curling his tongue around Jim’s nipple as his fingers went deeper, scissoring and twisting and stretching and _fuck_ , Jim just wanted to be fucked now. 

His head tilted with the nudge to his jaw, breath catching as Bones spoke again, "An' if you don't shut the hell up an' stop tryin' to boss me around I won't have any choice but to tie you to this bed and make you come over an' over with only my tongue until you're good an' ready for me to fuck you."

He let out a rough laugh, hips pressing down again because Bones wasn’t prepping him fast enough. “What can I say, Bones,” he continued, like he was testing the waters, trying to see how far he could push this, “I’m the Captain, aren’t you s’posed to li-mm-sten to me?” He grinned, meeting Bones’ eyes with his own, biting his lower lip as he rolled his hips in time with the movement of Bones’ fingers, sort of fucking himself on the doctor’s hand. 

“Tying me down wouldn’t shut me up, though,” he added, voice trembling a little with just the thought of being tied down, his pupils even wider than before - if that were possible - and the flush on his cheeks dark at the thought. “But that can come later, now for the fucking, Bones.” Impatience, thy name was Jim Kirk. 

"Would if I gagged you," Bones shot back with a slow dirty smile. He cast his eyes downwards, his composure faltering a little as Jim basically fucked himself on his hand. He dragged his teeth up Jim's chest and sealed them around his lower lip, pulling it into the warmth of his mouth, curling his tongue around the other man's before he unceremoniously pulled Jim's thigh upwards, positioning it over his hip. Jim found himself shifted, rocking his hips down again and groaning because fuck if the idea of being both bound and gagged didn’t set his pulse racing even further. 

“Aw, but then you’d not be able to hear me talking,” Jim retorted playfully, though his voice rough with desire and the need he was still sort of refusing to voice because he wouldn’t beg, no matter how good it felt having those fingers inside of him because Christ, he knew Bones had long fingers but- He swallowed, ignoring the way his whole body had responded to the thought of what Bones could do to him, of what he’d _let_ Bones do to him. 

"Such a shame," Bones shot back to Jim's playful retort before dropping his mouth to Jim's neck, biting down and sucking slow, the movements single-minded and determined to leave behind another full purpling mark.

Jim shuddered, able to feel the cold press of the tube of lube on the bed beside his hip and he half thought about just pushing it toward Bones. “Don’t you wanna get to the good stuff?” he asked, managing somehow to affect a pout even though he looked truly fucked out already. “And you’re not naked yet, Bones, I can’t get your pants off you since you’re ho-mnguh-holding me down.” Jim felt his toes curling, achingly hard and turned on, needing Bones to just get with the program and fuck him already, finding it hard to speak past the sensations of fingers and tongue and teeth against him. “You’re gonna haveta do it yourself, man. And let me watch. Before you fuck me. Because the fucking really needs to happen soon,” he twisted hips a bit, rocked down a bit more purposefully, the changed angle of his hips meaning that Bones’ finger hit a spot that made him see stars briefly and he lifted his head, snagging Bones’ lips in a kiss. “Come on, ‘m way past ready.”

When Bones pulled away, Jim let out something approaching a whine, feeling the loss of those fingers inside him and the sensation was unpleasantly… empty. Though his hands were freed so he pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch the older man undress in front of him, eyes raking in the muscles of Bones’ chest and how they worked as those hands - god, Jim knew he’d never be able to look at them without thinking of those fingers pushed up inside him and wasn’t that going to make things awkward going forward? - pushed those trousers down sinfully slowly.

“Bones,” he whined (but call him on it later and he’d tell you it was a manly demand for attention), wriggling a little on the bed, pretty much ready to climb the fucking walls for a good fucking at this point in time. “Will you get nake-“ he wet his lower lip, eyes falling on the sharp cut of Bones’ hip bone, the skin that had always teased him but never actually been within reach before. God, he wanted to reach out and touch it, drag his fingers along the fine trail of dark hair that ran below Bones’ navel, map that skin with his teeth.

He breathed out through his nose, “C’mon, man,” he mumbled thickly, heady with lust and desire and fucking wanton with the need of Bones back on top of him already. He’d be surprised at how dark and sexy and kinky his doctor was later on, after the fact, “I really need you to be fucking me right now.” He thought he’d been patient so far. He even moved to sit up, if Bones was having problems getting his pants off, Jim would help. Jim would help with nothing but his teeth if it would get Bones to come back on top of him and finish what he started. 

"I can do it just fine on my own," Bones murmured as he pushed Jim back and to be honest, the young Captain just did what was required of him and flopped back, watching as Bones shucked off the trousers and Jim’s fingers itched to touch again, reaching out to curl his fingers against Bones’ skin as soon as the other man was between his legs again. "You gonna feel good, Jim?" 

He glanced down at the lube as Bones opened it with one hand - tactile, of course he was fucking tactile - and then he was being kissed again, hand touching to curl in Bones’ hair, demanding that the kiss be sped up.

“Bones,” Jim breathed raggedly, lifting his leg again, hooking it over Bones’ hip in a pretty clear indication of what needed to be happening, “it’s gonna be fucking amazing, just get a _move_ on,” he bit at Bones’ lower lip, holding it between his teeth and tugging impatiently. Any more teasing and Jim honestly thought he might explode. Fuck. “Pl-“ He caught himself before he actually begged, dropping his head back into the sheets. 

"I don't think I heard you," Bones muttered roughly as his hand sliding Jim’s leg ever higher up over his hip, shifting subtly between Jim’s thighs in preparation for what was about to happen.

The touch against his skin, the anticipation of what was happening next had Jim’s breath catching, a groan in the back of his throat. He looked up, catching Bones’ eyes with his own. He was going to have to say it, he just knew he was going to have to but really- There was a larger part of him that really didn’t mind.

“Fuck- Bones-just-“ he swallowed, hips lifting and rocking down a little, the action making his own eyes flutter shut, “ _Please_ -“ He twisted his fingers in the doctor’s hair, pulling him in for another kiss, “-fuck me already.”

As they kissed and Jim met each move of Bones’ lips with one of his own, pressing up into the kiss, all passion and need and want but it broke when Bones pushed into him and Jim gritted his teeth against the initial burn, the cold press of the lube contrasting sharply with his own fevered skin and that of the doctor pushing in, breathing slowly through his nose because even though there had been prep, it was still burning. It was okay, though, even if he couldn’t really believe this was actually happening. He had to admit, all the scenarios he’d imagined, he was the one fucking Bones. The fact that he was about to get screwed into the mattress made this infinitely hotter and he rolled his hips experimentally, hand at the base of Bones’ neck as the other man breathed out a ragged “Fuck” against his skin.

When Bones’ hips shifted, Jim’s breath came in a sharp jolt and he reflexively tightened his thigh where it was resting hooked over Bones’ hip, groan ripping from his chest as Bones slowly started to move. He wet his lower lip, calculating the rhythm in his own mind before he gripped Bones’ shoulder and slowly started rolling his own hips in time with the movements that Bones was making, using the leg he had hooked over Bones’ hip as leverage to help him move, keep Bones close.

The burn was easing with each roll of hips, but Jim wanted more, he already knew that and he turned his head, teeth catching the edge of Bones’ ear, tongue soothing any sting before he muttered, “C’mon, Bones, I know you wanna make me feel it.” He tensed his lower body almost experimentally, like he was curious as to the reaction, like he didn’t know what it felt like.

Bones hissed in a breath and Jim grinned, though it was short lived because then Bones was talking, and- Fuck. "Well, you'd be right 'bout that." Bones ducked his head, latched his teeth around Jim's pulsepoint and sucked until sure enough the skin was purpling. Jim arched up into it, eyes fluttering. "Wanna fuck you so hard that you won't be able to sit down for a week without thinkin' 'bout me inside you." 

Several more dirty remarks escaped the good Doctor's mouth about how he wanted to see Jim all fucked out and how he was going to make him feel so fucking good that he wouldn't ever want anybody else, lips claiming skin as their own as he mumbled the southern slurs against Jim's skin. Jim felt like the words were burning themselves into his skin, indelibly being written against him with the press of lips and teeth and tongue as he felt each thrust arching through him, a shot to his core. A hand soon dragged over Jim's side, nails leaving marks before sure confident fingers latched around his thigh where Bones pulled until sure enough the angle shifted and it didn't take long for his thrusts to become harder, deeper and far more insistent. Jim was compliant, letting Bones manhandle him because he couldn’t think past the sensations pushing into his mind and into his body, burning him up from the inside out, hot like a supernova just waiting to ignite, to explode.

"So fuckin' beautiful," Bones murmured all whiskey rough against Jim's lips as he slanted his mouth there.

Jim didn’t think he’d ever be able to think about anything else after the angle shifted and he let out a surprised sound, startled as sparks shot out from behind his eyes, causing his breath to catch on a moan he couldn’t stop from breaking free. His hips twitched downward, the rhythm he’d found was lost briefly as he had to readjust, pull his brain together to meet each movement with one of his own because _fuck_. 

The litany of filth did more things to Jim than he wanted to admit, lifting his head into the kiss even as it was stuttered and breaking because God- how was he supposed to think when this was happening to him? Bones’ hand against his thigh felt like it was burning him like a brand, not that he was complaining, if he was going to walk around with _Property of Leonard H McCoy_ all over him, he didn’t much care, it was sort of thrilling. 

His hand slipped down to curl around himself - the hand that wasn’t gripping Bones’ shoulder for purchase anyway, short nails digging into the perfect skin - barely having to move it due to the rocking of their bodies, but when he did, his eyes rolled back a little and he had to break the kiss to breathe harshly against Bone’s lips, working himself in time with the thrusts that kept trying to rob him of all rational thought.

“Fuck- Bone- fu-” Jim bit out, ragged and broken and so fucking close to the edge, pupils wide and blown, blue swallowed by the black that just wanted and needed.

Short, blunt nails dragged through his hair and closed his grip around the back of the Jim’s neck as Bones groaned into his skin, body working like a piston and fuck if Jim couldn’t think past the way that his name sounded pouring off those lips like a prayer.

"C'mon," he encouraged breathlessly. "Wanna see you come, Jim." And Jim could feel the ragged edge to each thrust, feeling the press and roll of hips against him in time with the way his hand was working, twisting his wrist just so in a way that made his body shudder and arch. 

Bones' treacherous tongue slithered past Jim's lips and claimed his mouth, stinging with the bit of teeth and perfection and everything Jim knew he wanted and needed but didn’t realise how badly until that precise moment because good God.

Jim could feel the ragged edge to each thrust, the press and roll of Bones’ hips in time with the way his hand was working himself, kissing back messily, tongue curling around Bones’ even as he twisted his wrist just so in a way that made his body shudder and arch. As he did, Bones hit that spot again and again and again and Jim - who was normally a talker during sex, normally he was doing what Bones was, but here it just didn’t- it didn’t seem right and he couldn’t have talked even if he’d wanted to - let out a sound that was a keening moan of Bones’ name, his real name not the nickname that he’d insisted on using their whole friendship as he came apart at the seams, being hit with his orgasm like an old freight train, slamming into him with a force that had the edges of his vision whiting out, eyes squeezing shut as his body twitched and jerked and convulsed underneath and around Bones. 

His hand gripped the back of Bones’ neck like he was the anchor in the storm of Jim’s orgasm, breathing out a litany of ‘Leo’ and ‘Bones’ like they were the only words he could remember, body shivering and twitching.

Jim missed the play of emotions across Bones’ face and eyes as his own were still squeezed shut, he opened them only when he heard those cuss words, the thick as molasses accent pushing through his foggy brain. He opened his eyes to see Bones above him, falling apart at the seams and fuck if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Jesus fuck, Christ, mother _fucker_ , fuck, fuck-“

He noted how Bones’ arms were shaking from the sheer strain it was taking to hold his body up and how his head dropped forward, mouth lazily moving against Jim's neck. 

Jim tipped his head a little as Bones hid his face against his skin and his hand just moved in slow circles along the older man’s back, muttering nonsense under his breath, words soft and sleepy and voice just on this edge of raw from how purely fucked out he felt. He pressed a kiss to the curve of Bones’ jaw, didn’t move because he didn’t want to, didn’t think that he could right now. He closed his eyes again, wiping his hand on the sheets so that he could draw concentric circles against the flawless skin of Bones’ back, ignoring the ugly twist in his stomach at the thought of his own scarred skin. 

“You kiss Miss Ellie with that mouth?” he teased with a rough chuckle, nipping at Bones’ ear before he continued with, “I can’t believe we never did that before.” Whilst the words might have seemed flippant, to anyone that knew Jim Kirk, they definitely weren’t. 

Bones gave a rough laugh which warmed Jim from the inside out. "You an' me both, kid." He shifted his weight and turned his head in time to catch Jim's mouth in a slow burning kiss which Jim returned in kind, catching Bones’ jaw with one hand and holding him for a moment as they kissed, breaking it only when Bones shifted his weight. Jim shifted his leg, uncurling it from where it had been locked over Bones’ hip and moved a little himself, feeling Bones slide out of him and he wet his lower lip with a shudder.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and pressed his head back into the pillows, just breathing. Just breathing and trying to remind himself that it was okay, this was okay. He didn’t need to leave because Bones wasn’t leaving again, right? He hadn’t screwed this up by doing this, had he? 

“‘m not a kid,” he muttered mock-petulantly, rolling onto his side so that he could look at Bones properly, leaning up and stealing another kiss. “You staying, Bones?” he asked, tone light but eyes heavy, almost afraid of the answer he’d get. The question was about staying in the bed, sleeping over, but the connotation was a lot bigger, a lot wider than Jim was willing to put a label on.

Bones collapsed quite readily into his side of the bed and without really thinking he looped his arm around Jim's waist like it belonged there closing his fingers around his hip as he tugged the other man closer.

"Yeah," he mumbled roughly as he covered the mark on the side of Jim's neck. "I'm stayin', Jim." His grip remained steady, strong and unrelenting. "Ain't goin' anywhere."

Jim let himself be pulled closer as an arm looped around his waist, tugging him so that his chest was flush against Bones’, feeling the warmth against his skin. He wriggled only a little, not enough to break the contact, but enough so that he could lie on his other side, so his back was against Bones’ chest. For Jim, it was a sign of trust, baring the scarred side of himself to Bones even if it was pressed against him, the imperfect side that he didn’t let anyone see if he could help it. 

“‘kay. ‘Cause I’ll maroon you on Delta Vega if you try and quit again,” he muttered sleepily, “There are monsters on that place so big they make Khan’s ship look like a little baby.” He was babbling a little, and that was how the reference to Khan slipped out of his mouth, normally he didn’t talk about him. “And it’s cold there. ’s not nice.” 

He closed his eyes, knowing they should clean up but he couldn’t be bothered. Couldn’t bring himself to move away from this. Not with sleep tugging at him in a non-induced way for the first time in so long. His hand covered the one that was curled around his waist. “See y’in the morning, Bones,” he mumbled thickly, comfortable and fucked out and asleep pretty much instantly because Bones gave Jim a sense of comfort and reassurance he hadn’t had since his brother had died. Also, mind-blowing sex was _really_ tiring.


	43. Stardate 2260.54

_Stardate 2260.54_

The bridge crew had taken to entertaining each other with jokes and games whilst they passed through some of the more boring parts of space, alternating between Jim trying to ask super revealing questions and wheedling for answers that were never given and playing games of I Spy that had Spock rolling his eyes and Jim flopped over his chair in a way that was definitely not Captainly. 

There was a whooshing sound from behind them as the turbolift door opened and Jim sat upright in the chair, like he wasn’t lounging around like a slacker or a layabout. The happy chatter that had been bandied about between Sulu, Chekov and a couple of the other members of the bridge crew stopped and a sudden sort of silence fell over the bridge as one Leonard H McCoy, M.D, P.H.D. etc etc _etc_ stepped onto the bridge. 

He didn’t say anything, wasn’t even acknowledged by Jim as he crossed over to take up his position behind Jim’s left shoulder, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Welcome back, Doctor,” Spock said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the entire bridge crew. “It is good to see you returning to the bridge.”

"Damn good to be back, Commander."

Jim turned his head a little and grinned at Bones, soft and affectionate around the edges before he settled himself more firmly in the chair. Bones was back on deck, the way he should have been the whole time and he wasn’t going anywhere ever again. 

“Mr Sulu,” he said, voice brighter and more cheerful than anyone of them had heard for such a long time, returning his attention to the forward viewing screen. “Let’s get out of this quadrant.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Sulu said with a grin, tapping in the co-ordinates of their next location, their next adventure.

“Punch it.”

***

_"Space._

_The Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise, it’s five year mission, to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life, and new civilisations. To boldly go where no one has gone before._

_Buckle up, Bones. It’s gonna be one hell of a ride.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I started this at work one Saturday, covertly writing between taking phone calls and writing complaint resolution letters, I didn't think that it would turn into this giant beast that it has. Approximately 54,000 words later and I feel totally spent and exhausted and I don't even think we're done playing in this 'verse yet! 
> 
> I know there's a co-author credit in this. Whilst we both wrote our stories separately, [MandsAngelfox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mandsangelfox/profile) was so intrinsic to helping push the plot forward and the stories are so intertwined I don't think they'd make sense on their own. I don't think she was ready for what it meant when I emailed her the first 10,000 words and said WRITE ME A COMPANION PIECE. But she did. Because she's awesome. And the companion piece is here: [Put It On My Tab (If It Hurts You Bad)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/914811). 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we did writing it. :)


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